


The Meaning of a Second Chance

by Elwyn (Iltazyara)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Secrets, ron being a git, tri-wizard tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iltazyara/pseuds/Elwyn
Summary: Harry is entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament against his will, Ron ditches him, and Hermione is acting oddly.If Harry didn't already have too much to worry about, he might question that last one a little more.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 74
Kudos: 265





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Second Chances, new story and… mostly done already. There’s a bit of a mystery, but I’ll be frank, I’m about as blunt as a sledgehammer about it.   
> Tags and summary are kept minimal to not entirely give the game away.
> 
> Nothing in this story should be triggering, although it isn't exactly kind to Ron, this was his time of being the biggest git possible.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers, TyrannicPuppy and StruggleMuggle, for making this less of a mess.

“Harry Potter.”

The words were not spoken loudly, they were not shouted out, but they echoed across the Great Hall nonetheless. Harry felt like there had to be a mistake. Something had to have gone wrong. Or that he hadn’t heard correctly.

The entire hall was staring at him, and right by his side Hermione gasped loudly. He turned to look at her, her eyes wide and mouth open as she stared at him too. “I didn’t put my name in.” Harry said, his voice sounding dead even to his own ears, “You know I didn’t.” Ron, just beyond her, also stared – except his look was blank, devoid of all expression as his eyes bored into Harry.

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes and she launched into him, wrapped him up in her arms to engulf him in a hug. “Of course you didn’t – I know you better than to believe you did.” She pulled away, her arms lingered on his own for a moment before she pushed him gently. “Go on, before they call you again.”

Harry turned back to Dumbledore, who nodded to McGonagall. “Harry Potter!” he called out, “Harry! Up here, if you please.”

Hermione gave Harry another light push, and he stood. He marched up toward the head table feeling as if the entire world was watching him. Judging him. The hall buzzed ever louder as he neared the top table, though it felt like the walk across the hall took an eternity to complete.

“Well… through the door, Harry.” Dumbledore said, his face was grim when Harry finally arrived next to him.

It was Halloween. He should’ve known something was going to go wrong.

\--oOoOo--

Harry woke the next day feeling awful. Dumbledore believed that he hadn’t put his name in, that it was someone trying to kill him, but only after he’d accused him in front of the other champions. Except for Moody it didn’t seem like anyone else believed him either.

To make it worse, of all people, Ron hadn’t believed him. Harry ripped back the curtains of his four-poster bed, intending to talk to Ron, to make his first friend understand – only to find Ron’s bed was empty. He must’ve gone down to breakfast.

Harry quickly got dressed to chase after his missing friend, and tried to avoid the many people acting like he was some sort of hero in the common room before he made it to the portrait hole. Immediately outside he found Hermione leaning against the wall, staring at him.

There was a look in her eye he hadn’t seen before. She glanced all over, from his feet to the top of his head. After a moment a wide smile appeared on her face. “Hello, you feel like avoiding the eyes in the great hall?”

“I’d like breakfast…” he muttered, realising just how bad it would be with everyone staring at him.

She merely rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. “I already thought of that, Harry. This way!”

She ignored his protests and dragged him down corridors he barely knew existed, all the while recounting the reactions of various people to his name coming out of the goblet. When he interrupted to ask what she thought she stopped for a moment. “I told you already. I know you better than that. You might’ve talked about entering as if it were a laugh, but you’d never go through with it. You don’t like the attention. Someone is trying to kill you.” She didn’t even turn around once, and began dragging him off once more. “Again. Someone is trying to kill you again. You’re four out of four on people trying to kill you each year, Harry.”

“Sirius wasn’t trying to kill me,”

“No, but the minister was, with those bloody dementors.” She spat out angrily. Her grip on his arm tightened painfully for a moment before she relaxed. “Almost there; there’s another person who believes in you absolutely waiting there too.”

Harry brightened for a moment, thinking Ron had changed his mind – although why would be waiting in a disused part of the castle he had no idea – but then the door opened and he saw the one Hermione was talking about.

“Harry Potter, Sir! Dobby is very glad to be seeing you!” The little elf looked ready to cry even as he bounced enthusiastically and his ears flopped up and down. “Miss Granger be telling Dobby that Harry Potter Sir be wanting to avoid all the people staring at him! Dobby understands not wanting to be seen. Dobby has gotten breakfast and a table for Harry Potter Sir and his friend!”

“Thank you Dobby. Will you be joining us?” Hermione knelt down next to Dobby to look him in the eye.

Abruptly Dobby burst into tears, and Hermione reached out to take his hand. “Dobby already be eating, Miss Granger. Dobby couldn’t be eating with Miss Granger and Harry Potter.” He looked up at Harry, even as he clung onto Hermione’s hand with both arms, causing her smile to twitch slightly. “Dobby needs to be going, too. Hogwarts elves let Dobby do this for Harry Potter Sir, but only if Dobby help around castle!”

“Er, thank you, Dobby.” Harry glanced at Hermione who pointed at Dobby then a table laden with food while she fixed him with a stare. “Maybe you can take the time to eat with us another day?”

Dobby wailed louder for a moment, his cries incoherent beyond how great Harry was. It took more than a minute for the excitable elf to quiet down. “Thank you, sir, Dobby will remember this offer. Dobby is still a free elf, and proud, but Dobby must get back to work now.” With a snap of his spindly fingers he was gone.

Hermione stood up and dusted herself off before taking a seat and preparing a plate for herself. “See Harry, I told you I’d thought of it. Now, tell me what happened to you yesterday?”

Harry went over meeting with the other champions, Madame Maxine and Headmaster Karkaroff’s disapproval, along with Moody and Dumbledore’s belief that someone was trying to kill him. She even pushed him to tell her about Snape’s accusations and Ron’s inability to believe him.

“Well, I agree with the Headmaster and… Professor Moody. Someone is trying to kill you.” She paused to spear and bite into a turnip with a terrible crunch. “Again. But that’s nothing new. Nor is Snape singling you out; just think, he was petty enough to try and get Sirius killed last year just because he didn’t want to believe us…” She closed her eyes and frowned. A few moments later she sighed.

“Aren’t you always telling me to respect him?”

“I have, haven’t I? But I can be wrong too, Harry.” She grinned. “Despite appearances, I am not infallible.”

Harry stared at her for a moment then burst out laughing, and Hermione followed along with him. “You seem different.” He said once they finished laughing, “What happened?”

She froze, then slowly reached out to clasp his hand with hers. “Books and cleverness, there are more important things…”

“Like friendship and bravery?” What she had told him before he faced Quirrel and Voldemort had stuck in his mind.

“Yes, of course. But Loyalty and Trust too. I trust you Harry, and I’m not going to abandon you so easily.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Nothing is more important to me than you are.” She blinked, her face turning pink. “Our friendship, I mean. Nothing is more important than our friendship to me!”

Harry smiled, but soon remembered Ron and it fell away. “Wish Ron felt the same.”

“This isn’t the first time he’s done this.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up, but Hermione was staring at her food, pushing it around on her plate.

“I told him off for calling you a cheat in the common room this morning. But it’s not that much different from last year, just you instead of me. And he has less reason this time.”

“Scabbers might not’ve been dead, but honestly, I thought Crookshanks had eaten him too…”

She shook her head, about to say something but stopped to take a breath. She nibbled away slowly at her food for a minute before saying anything. “No, no… I know that. Ron had reason to be mad. For a week or two, like you were over the Firebolt. Not… not months. Not making me unwelcome in the common room. He chased me out every time he saw me; I spent all my free time in the library, visiting Hagrid, or in my dorm because of him.

“But this time he doesn’t even have his stupid rat to be angry about. He’s just jealous of your fame, like he always has been, and thinks you’re trying to get more.”

“But I’m not!”

Hermione looked up at Harry and rolled her eyes slowly. “Of course you’re not; but Ron’s never been the most rational person. He doesn’t stop to _think_ until after he does something. Anyway, that’s enough about the prat.” She pushed her plate away, and feeling done with eating himself, Harry did the same.

Harry was too busying thinking about Ron, and all the things Ron had that he _didn’t —_ a mother, a father, brothers, a sister, a house with his own bedroom since he was a child, no bars on his window — that he didn’t notice Hermione stand up and move next to him. He was once again wrapped up in a hug, her hair draping across his face as she leaned over him and pressed her head against his.

“Ron’s not your only friend, Harry. I know you’re close but don’t forget I’m here too.” She tightened the hug briefly, his ribs straining under her arms, before sighing. “Now, what would _you_ like to do?”

Harry was rarely the one to initiate anything in either of his friendships. With Ron the red-head was always dragging him off to play chess, or starting a conversation about Quidditch, or just mucking about and Harry following along to enjoy himself. With Hermione she always made sure his homework was done, helped him when he needed it, and occasionally pointed out good books to read.

He hadn’t done much reading at all since making friends with Ron; not like he used to. The school library had been one of the few places Dudley wouldn’t chase him and something the Dursleys couldn’t take away from him.

He spent several minutes searching for a better idea before giving up. “Chess?” he said with a shrug; chess was kind of fun, although he always lost to Ron.

Hermione snorted “Alright, chess it is. It’s not like I have any of my dad’s boardgames for us to play.” As she got up to find a chess set she called out over her shoulder. “Oh, and write a letter to Sirius! He’ll find out anyway; it’ll be in the papers before the end of the week and he’ll want to hear from you.”

Harry wanted to argue, but she had already left. After thinking about it he couldn’t say she was wrong; there was no way something this big would stay hidden, and Sirius _had_ asked Harry to keep him posted. He sighed and rummaged in Hermione’s bag for quill and parchment, wondering what exactly he would tell his godfather.

\--oOoOo--

“Hah! I’m going to win this time!” Hermione crowed, as she placed Harry’s king into check. She wasn’t any better at chess than Harry was, but compared to losing to Ron the more even matches were turning out to be a good bit of fun. He’d won the first two, but blundered his queen into a trap which resulted in this victory for Hermione.

He smiled as the last two moves played out and he lost. He’d never actually played a game against Hermione before; with her it’d always been studying. “Yeah, you did.”

Rather than start another game Hermione quickly packed everything away into a corner of their little hideout — Hermione’d explained she had used this same classroom the previous year with her time-turner since it was unused and so out of the way — and dragged him off to the Owlery before Transfiguration to send his letter. Even if she was being a bit more fun, and a little odd all of a sudden, she was still the same studious Hermione she had always been.

At least, it had seemed that way until he took a glance at her in class. She looked thoroughly _bored_ listening to McGonagall, and while she was taking notes they didn’t have anything to do with the lesson. Not that her unusual inattention stopped her changing her rabbit into a chicken perfectly on the first try.

Harry was so distracted by the stares sent his way by other students, and how Ron had sat as far away from him as possible, that even with Hermione’s help his attempt had been rather dismal; an awkward creature with floppy wings instead of front legs, but otherwise still a rabbit.

\--oOoOo--

Even after a week had passed, nothing seemed to get much better. Hermione was still dragging him away, eating meals with him in private, and filling the gap Ron had left by discussing Quidditch and playing chess, but it wasn’t the same. She didn’t have Ron’s enthusiasm.

Harry couldn’t help feeling angry at Ron, and it manifested horribly in charms class. Hermione had gotten bored again and started juggling a pillow with mixed summoning and banish charms, much to Professor Flitwick’s delight, while he had been given extra homework due by the end of the month on the charm. Harry was the only one who needed it except Neville who was bottom of the class.

Hermione’s advice had helped a little. “It’s about _wanting_ the item to come to you. Or wanting it to just – well – go away for banishing. It gets a lot easier with practice, after a while you don’t even need to concentrate anymore.”

His pillow had twitched, but a burst of laughter from Ron from where he was sitting with Seamus had broken his concentration. He knew Seamus had been saying Harry must’ve cheated to get in, and he was probably making jokes about it. Even wondering where Hermione had the chance to practice a spell they’d only just been introduced to only distracted him from the thoughts whirling in his head for a moment.

All he could do was say he was having a hard time concentrating and wave off Hermione’s help until later. At least she was refusing to abandon him, even if some people were whispering that she must’ve cheated to help him enter himself with how she’d acted in the Great Hall on Halloween.

After Charms was Potions, and unlike the jovial Flitwick, Snape seemed to enjoy Harry’s misery like it was a fine wine. Snape was constantly going on about how a _champion_ should behave, how lucky they were to have a _champion_ in their midst that Harry felt like he was going to scream.

Hermione had stayed next to him, whispering to him to ignore it, to not let them win by reacting. He honestly didn’t know what he would’ve done if she hadn’t believed him, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. She was much more knowledgeable about Quidditch than he expected too, although her explanation had made sense.

“After so many years as your friend, how do you think I can remain ignorant about your sport? Honestly, it’s pretty much all you ever talk about. Other than when we’re off on another daring adventure, of course.” She had even gone so far as to have Madam Hooch let him chase a Snitch around the Quidditch pitch one evening, just to blow off some steam, while she sat in the stands with a book on past tournaments. She’d found out about a wand weighing ceremony and given him her wand care kit to make sure his was in perfect condition for whenever it showed up. Not wanting to be embarrassed, he’d made use of it that very night.

The next day looked to be even worse than the preceding ones. They didn’t even wait until class started before the mockery began, Malfoy and his Slytherin cronies were all lined up and wearing large badges, sneering at the Gryffindors as they arrived outside the classroom.

Each and every badge proclaimed in bright luminous red letters; ‘Support Cedric Diggory — The Real Hogwarts Champion!’

“Like them, Potter?” Malfoy said loudly as they approached. Hermione sighed, drawing Harry’s attention, and slipped her wand out and making a series of quick, complicated gestures while muttering — but never once raising her arm or pointing her wand away from the floor.

Malfoy sneered and ignored Hermione entirely to fixate on Harry. “And this isn’t all they do — look!” He pressed his badge into his chest and the message upon it vanished to be replaced by another one, one which glowed bright pink.

‘Wait Until Draco’s Father Hears About This!’ It proclaimed brightly, illuminating the corridor in a soft pink glow.

Slowly the corridor filled with sniggering, first on the Gryffindor side, then it spread amongst the Slytherins. A few of whom pressed their own badges, only to be greeted by the same bright pink message.

“Oh, how sweet. You must love your father a lot, Malfoy.”

Draco, who somehow hadn’t noticed what had gone wrong, kept his sneer on his face. “Of course, my father is an influential man; not that you would know anything about _influence,_ Granger.”

Which only caused the sniggering to turn into outright laughter, and many of the Slytherins to quickly take off their badges and pocket them. It wasn’t until Pansy tapped Draco on his shoulder that he turned and saw what was wrong, his face suddenly flushed redder than Ron’s hair — who laughed uproariously — and whipped out his wand.

Harry could only stare dumbfounded at Hermione. He knew she had done this, but not _how._ He was about to ask when Draco screamed out “ _Densaugeo!”_ and a jet of light shot out from his wand — only to splash into a shimmering barrier emanating from Hermione’s wand.

A sharp snap behind them heralded the arrival of Snape, and before Harry could even turn around Hermione’s wand was gone from her hand and she was beaming up at the professor.

“What is going on here?” He glowered. His eyes raked across the assembled students, but focused plainly upon the Gryffindors after glancing at the badges.

“Oh, we were just hearing how much Draco loves his father; why else would he make such supportive badges for him?” Hermione said, a wry smile twitching softly across her face.

Her comment caused another wave of tittering laughter to spread amongst the students, but it was far more subdued due to Snape’s presence.

Snape, however, was not amused. He stared Hermione in the eye for several moments before he flinched back abruptly. “Five points from Gryffindor for delaying the start of class.” He snapped. No one protested, but neither did anyone move toward that classroom. “Well, get in! Now!” Snape roared, an even worse scowl than normal plastered across his face.

Harry moved in lockstep with Hermione into the room, staring at her, feeling a little bit of awe. She had turned all the mockery back on Draco in a way that Fred and George would be proud of.

Ron bustled up to her just as they stepped in the doorway. “Good one Hermione, you really put Draco in his place!”

“Five points from Gryffindor for insulting another student, Weasley!” Came Snape’s predictable response.

“Shut up Ron.” Hermione glared at him before she took Harry’s arm and dragged him to an empty table.

Snape was just saying they were going to be brewing antidotes and needed someone to test them on when Colin Creevey burst into the room and beamed at Harry before he walked up to the front desk and Snape.

Harry escaped the impending doom of Snape trying to poison him — although he had little doubt Hermione would brew a perfect antidote — and making his way to a small classroom with Colin to participate in the Weighing of the Wands. Hermione grabbed him and whispered in his ear as he left, “Harry! Don’t let any reporters treat you like Lockhart did; it’ll only make everything _worse_ around the castle.”

Remembering how Lockhart had acted as though Harry was trying to make use of his fame — and the incident in Flourish and Blotts — Harry recognised that Hermione had a point. But there was no way a reporter could be that bad, surely.

\--oOoOo--

Harry was completely, totally, and utterly wrong. Rita Skeeter was _worse_ than Lockhart had been. At least Ollivander hadn’t mentioned the _curious_ thing about his wand. That would’ve truly been the icing on the cake. He hadn’t shared that information with anyone, nor did he intend to. Ever.

He made his way into the Great Hall for dinner for once, where there were a number of badges calling out their support for Cedric Diggory, but a noticeable absence of them around the Slytherin table. When he sat down next to Hermione she looked quite pleased with herself as Dean retold the story of what happened outside the Potions classroom.

“How’d it go, Harry?” She asked

“I should’ve listened — that Skeeter woman’s worse than _Lockhart._ ” He scowled, thinking about the nonsense the quill had put down on her parchment. “She’s going to just make things up, isn’t she?”

“Well, at least you realised as much. She’s the worst kind of tabloid writer; you should do your best to avoid her, Harry.” Hermione said as she grabbed his hand. She was doing that a lot lately. “Now, how did the Wand Weighing go, not just the skeezy reporter?”

Harry sighed. “Could’ve been worse. Thank you for the kit, I’ll give it back to you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

They returned to their dinner, and for the first time in several weeks Harry didn’t feel like the centre of attention. That privilege seemed to have been temporarily foisted onto the increasingly incensed Draco Malfoy, who stared daggers at Harry. Having just one person glare at him was far better than the hundreds it had been.

\--oOoOo--

After dinner they returned to the Gryffindor Tower, only to be greeted by stares from Ron, Seamus, and Dean. Harry stood still, wondering if Ron would say anything, but after a minute he turned back to a game of chess he seemed to be coaching the other two boys through and ignored them.

“Don’t pay him any attention Harry, it’s not your fault he’s jealous.” Hermione nudged him gently. “I’m tired — see you in the morning?”

“Sure.” Harry wanted to believe Hermione, and he resented Ron’s behaviour, but he still just wanted the separation to end. That, or to give Ron a good smack. “Good night, Hermione.”

“Night, Harry.” She waved lightly and headed up into the girl’s dorms, leaving Harry to make his way past the rest of the Gryffindors — including an overly excited and inquisitive Colin — to his own dormitory.

As he went to lie down he spotted a small brown owl with a letter tied to its leg. It was the same owl he’d sent his letter to Sirius with.

He strode up to the owl, quickly untied the letter, and started reading.

_Harry —_

_I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?_

_I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose._

_Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can._

_Sirius._

Harry wrote his reply saying that he could then and there. He’d just have to send it off in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

For all that Hermione was suddenly being _fun_ that didn't mean she had stopped being Hermione Granger. Not for a moment. Harry had thought she'd changed briefly but was soon corrected of his misconception.

"God, Hermione, did we have to do all of it _now?"_ He said as he massaged his aching hand, "I don't have any homework left for the entire week!" So long as he ignored the summoning charm he still hadn't figured out.

"And that is exactly why we did it, Harry. Now we can focus on relaxing, having a bit of fun, and making sure you survive the upcoming task _without_ any homework getting in the way!" She smiled as she took his arm and dragged him down away from the Desk of Homework and Torture. "Now, let's have lunch — Dobby gave me some sandwiches this morning."

"Weren't you campaigning against using house-elves earlier this year?"

"This is different!"

Harry stared at her for a moment, the frown on her face warned him against saying anything.

"Really, it is. Dobby isn't a slave, a servant, or anything like that. He's here and helping because he wants to help _you_ , Harry. He owes his freedom to you and wants to repay that debt." Harry nodded slowly, not really comfortable with Dobby feeling indebted to him. His clear apprehension caused Hermione to poke his side and smile. "And, of course, I'm paying him. Can't afford much but I'm paying him."

"You don't have to do that!" Her frown returned instantly and Harry quickly realised his mistake. "Wait, no, I don't — I don't mean Dobby doesn't deserve pay, I mean _you_ don't have to pay him. You're doing it for me, aren't you? So I don't have to eat in the Great Hall. With all the staring and whispers. I can pay for that; it's a better use of my money than anything else I can think of."

Abruptly Harry found himself wrapped up in Hermione's arms and with her hair covering his face — why did she have to get taller than him? He hated being the short one. Ron was already having his growth spurt, the git. — and all he could do was respond in kind. Hermione hugging him was becoming an increasingly common occurrence, not that he was complaining. Ever since the first one she had given him just before he confronted Quirrell he had started to realise what he had missed all his life.

"You don't have to do that. I can manage — Haggling Dobby up to a reasonable wage is practically impossible anyway."

"I have more gold than I can think of uses for," he murmured into her curls, eyes closing as he relaxed into her embrace, "and it's to help me. It's fine."

Hermione let go just before things began to feel awkward and beamed at him. "If you insist. Now c'mon, let's eat!"

Two plates of sandwiches were nothing compared to the fare ever-present in the Great Hall at mealtimes, but Harry found it to be more than enough to satisfy his hunger. It was a price well worth paying to avoid the Great Hall where he was still the hot topic of the castle. He knew the attention wasn't going to go away either, as he saw the front page of the Daily Prophet an owl brought in through the window to drop in front of Hermione.

"Well, let's see how… bad it is," Hermione said as she picked it up, shuffling next to Harry so he could read it at the same time. "Ugh, there's no way that's you. You don't talk like that at all! Ruddy Skeeter."

Harry stared at the paper and was appalled.

_I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it... I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me. . . ._

"I didn't say any of that!" He shouted, ripping the paper from Hermione's hands, poring over the article furiously. "I even told her I wasn't crying! She didn't even print what I _did_ say!"

"I told you she was the worst kind of tabloid writer. Now, give that back!" She swatted his hand and reclaimed her newspaper. "Honestly, that was quite rude. And don't shout so close to my ears."

"Sorry," he grumbled, not really feeling it. He was too mad at Rita Skeeter for twisting their interview to feel sorry — and his hand hurt, did she have to hit him?

"Hmm, oh." Hermione let out a little laugh. "Oh Harry, is there something you want to tell me?"

Harry looked up at her and there was a mischievous grin on her face as she held up the fifth page, where Rita Skeeter had interviewed other people to ask about the fourth 'champion'.

_Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school._

Something dropped in Harry's stomach as he read Colin's 'interview'. People thought Hermione was his girlfriend? The idea seemed ridiculous! It was _Hermione_. She was his friend, a friend who just happened to be a girl. Not his girlfriend.

"I, er, you know she writes rubbish Hermione!" He couldn't even look her in the eye, especially not with how she was smiling at him. "It even said I'm one of the top students! And you know I'm not. Can't even do the stupid summoning charm."

"Well, now you're just being silly. You're not a bad student at all — you just let Ron dictate your study habits too much. And at least it wasn't rude? I think it was quite complimentary, really."

"I guess." He mumbled, his anger at Rita Skeeter slowly turning into a pit of shame and mortification that felt like a stone in his stomach. "Everyone's going to be talking about _this_ now."

Hermione interrupted his thoughts with yet another hug, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. "It doesn't matter to me what they say, the only person in this castle whose opinion matters to me is yours. Everyone else can go hang."

"Even the professors, like McGonagall?"

"With how she hasn't said a thing to you about you being forced into this mess? Right now, yes. She can go hang too!"

Harry's jaw dropped in shock; Hermione, studious, fastidious, and rule-abiding — most of the time — Hermione, had just said her _favourite_ professor could go hang.

"Really?"

"Really, Harry. She's our head of house and she doesn't seem to care at all about what the castle is saying about you."

"Huh." He let her hold onto him, taking the chance to forget about the _Daily Prophet_ , the tournament, the other students, Ron, and just know that he had someone on his side. If he didn't, he really had no idea what he might do.

After a few minutes, however, Hermione decided their silence had gone on long enough. "So, do _you_ think I'm stunningly pretty?"

It took a few seconds for her words to process in his mind, but as soon as they did Harry had pulled away sputtering. The question had caught him completely by surprise and was such an un-Hermione-ish thing to say he would never have believed she would ask it. His shock was settled somewhat by the amused glint in her eye and the return of the mischievous grin from earlier; she was teasing him. Again.

Her smile faded a little as he searched for an answer, stammering as his brain failed to come up with anything coherent.

"It's fine. I know I'm not like that; my hair's a mess, my teeth are too big, I'm not _exotic_ like Parvati or Cho Chang, my figure barely exists unlike Lavender, and I don't bother with cosmetic charms or makeup like other girls." She shrugged, something a little sad hiding behind what Harry could tell was a forced smile. "I don't spend time on my appearance because it's not important to me. Helping you _is._ "

"You shouldn't say that! You don't look bad." He hadn't ever really paid that much attention to Hermione's appearance. It never seemed important before. She was a girl, but she hadn't been a _girl_ girl… not that thinking that made sense even to him. She just wasn't like Lavender, Parvati, or even Susan or Su Li.

And certainly not like Katie, Angelina, Alicia, or Cho. Quidditch robes were much more form-fitting than standard Hogwarts robes, something most boys learned to appreciate.

She shook her head, and he could tell she was sad, but he really didn't know what to say. Even looking at her more closely, she wasn't _wrong_ about what she said, but she wasn't right either. Her hair was frizzy, but it wasn't the untamed bush she'd had in their first year. Her teeth were big… but it wasn't like that made her ugly. And he _knew_ she had a figure from how much she had been hugging him.

"I mean it! You don't. You don't look bad, it's not like you're—" He paused for a moment and remembered Parkinson, who had insulted Hermione's appearance the previous day. "—Pansy Parkinson or anything. Um. Your face is nice, and… I, I dunno. You're not ugly, Hermione."

Thinking about how Hermione looked felt _weird._ Almost forbidden in away. She was his friend, and right now with Ron being a git, his only friend. The only student who came out and told him that they believed him. At least he'd managed to make her smile.

"Thank you, Harry. It—" She shook her head, cutting herself off, and laughed. "Thank you." There was something behind her new smile that he had seen before, but not in the same way; the way she was tilting her head and staring at him — staring into his eyes — it was just a little different. Not new, he had definitely seen it before. But different. At least it wasn't unpleasant. It was actually kind of nice having her look at him like that. It was as if he was the only thing worth looking at in the room.

"Enough about that silly article! Oh, this is interesting." She flipped through the _Daily Prophet_ to a short sports segment comparing a recent Chudley Cannons match to the highest scoring Quidditch match in history, and how if the Cannons had been a competent team the match might have broken the long-standing record. "One thousand two hundred points to one thousand thirty? That's absurd!"

Frankly, he was glad for the change in topic. "How many days did it take for it to get that high?" Harry asked, peering over to see for himself.

They engrossed themselves in reading the sports section, Hermione occasionally commenting on the ridiculous situations that sometimes came up in professional Quidditch, and generally having a good time. Harry could tell she didn't enjoy it as much as he did, but she was still smiling along with him throughout their discussion.

\--oOoOo--

Sometimes Harry hated magic; Hermione was determined to help him master the summoning charm for Professor Flitwick, but he was just struggling with it. It wasn't that he didn't put the time in, she saw to that, but he simply didn't _want_ things enough to summon them. Or at least that was Hermione's theory.

Most disheartening though was the time he overheard her ranting on the subject when she was going to Arithmancy after one of their breaks.

"Casting a Patronus at thirteen, yet struggling with a summoning charm… Honestly! It doesn't make sense!"

That evening had seen her try and push him to learn it even more, but he didn't have the interest. Not after hearing her say that.

It had served as a reminder of why she hadn't been his best friend before; she was still the same bossy, nagging, perfectionist Hermione she had always been, and when it came out it came out in force. Ron had always been the fun one of their trio.

He definitely still liked being her friend, but it certainly had its downsides.

\--oOoOo--

With how much time he was spending with Hermione it was hardly surprising that Harry ended up spending more time in the Library too; she often had all the books they needed already picked out, but sometimes there were simply too many. Most of Hermione's research into the tournament — something Harry hadn't enjoyed with all the descriptions of how champions had died horribly in the past — had happened there, the details were scattered amongst several dozen books with seemingly no rhyme nor reason to it.

They weren't the only ones to spend their time in the library of course. There were the ever-present Ravenclaws, the fifth and seventh years studying for their important exams that year, and the surprisingly frequent visitor, Viktor Krum. Harry hadn't thought much of his presence, only really aware of the older boy as a fellow Seeker and champion, but Hermione seemed to find him annoying. Or rather, found Krum's fangirls annoying.

Strangely, he distinctly remembered her saying "I forgot how awful his fangirls were…" the first time Krum had shown up. And Harry had to agree, if Hermione didn't cast a silencing charm that blocked out their tittering it would've been almost impossible to concentrate. Madam Pince's attempts to drive them off rarely succeeded for long before an entirely different group showed up.

Briefly, he had wondered what Ron would've thought of Krum's appearances, which were more than half the times they went to study. Or the way he seemed to stare at them every once in a while. Probably just sizing Harry up and laughing to himself; it was what most of the castle seemed to do when they compared Harry to one of the other champions. But Ron wasn't here because he was still being a git. Not that Ron being a git made Harry miss him any less, even if he would never admit it.

\--oOoOo--

Time flew by as the task approached, and it felt like he had no time to prepare at all before the last Saturday prior to the task came around. It was a Hogsmeade weekend and Harry was thankful for the chance to get out of the castle, although he insisted on wearing his invisibility cloak to stop any gawkers.

"This is incredibly awkward for me you know," Hermione whined as they walked into the village, "talking to thin air like this. Not to mention I keep bumping into you!"

"Don't walk so close then."

"And lose track of you completely? Not a chance." She stopped moving and groaned. "Ugh, _Skeeter._ Fine. You were right to wear the cloak; now c'mon, let's grab some butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks and find somewhere we can talk without you being invisible."

They waited until Rita Skeeter had gone past before heading into the pub. Harry found one disadvantage to being invisible — still more than worth it to avoid all the comments about Skeeter's article, the snide comments, and the stares — moving through crowds was quite difficult. He had to move very carefully to avoid stepping on anyone's feet or having them bump into him.

Harry stopped briefly to stare at Ron, thinking about giving him a hard poke in the head, when someone nearly tripped over him. He scurried out of the way quickly, but the man who'd fallen over was soon arguing with someone else over making him spill his drink.

Even with the fight he seemed to have started, Harry saw content and relaxed students everywhere. Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillian were swapping Chocolate Frog cards and wearing their _Support Cedric Diggory!_ Badges. Cho Chang sat with a large group of fellow Ravenclaws near the door, but while at least half of them were wearing the badges, Cho wasn't. That made him feel a little better.

Harry couldn't help but imagine what it would've been like if he hadn't been forcibly entered. He'd be sitting with Ron, not hanging about under his cloak, and chatting about what they thought the champions would have to face come Thursday. He'd even be looking forward to it, seeing other people in the spotlight for once, and cheering on Cedric from the safety of the stands.

Hermione, who'd gotten their butterbeers, had already started leaving the pub, glared at by Ron as she went. He had to hurry to catch up to her, and she was muttering his name quietly with increasing frustration.

"Yeah?" Harry said when he finally got close enough for her to hear him.

"Finally! I thought you'd wandered off. Or was that you that started that fight?"

"I guess. Someone tripped over me." He shivered. "Couldn't we have stayed in there? It's cold out here."

"I'll cast a warming charm once we get somewhere private. The Shrieking Shack? Or maybe just somewhere off in the fields."

He could tell there was no arguing with her and followed along until they made it to the Shrieking Shack and found a spot to sit down. True to her word she cast a spell that warmed him right up, enough to make the butterbeer seem refreshingly cool rather than plain chilly.

"Do you feel ready for the task, Harry?"

"Not like I even know what it is." He grumbled, "How can I be prepared for something I barely know anything about!"

"We know it's going to involve a dangerous magical beast of some sort. Every past tournament has had that for the First Task. No chance of it being a Cockatrice, I think; not after what happened the last time."

"So what, that just leaves dragons, occamies, chimaeras, erumpents, and what else?"

"Many, many things. Dragons though… that would be a _spectacle_ , wouldn't it."

Harry glared at her and saw she was frowning. His gaze quickly softened as he realised she didn't think it being a _spectacle_ was a good thing. "I can see the headlines now; _The Boy Who Sizzled!_ " He sighed, "With my luck, it'll be the biggest and meanest dragon around."

Hermione reached an arm over to pull him into a hug but he pushed her off. He enjoyed her hugs most of the time but didn't feel like it now. He avoided looking at her, knowing she'd have that hurt look on her face that he hated seeing.

They lapsed into silence as they stared down at the village in the distance, watching the crowds go to and fro. Harry didn't feel much better by the time he finished his butterbeer. He almost resented all the other students who got to go out and not worry about things, not have to fuss over what dangerous monster they would be put up against in a few days time.

Would it be too much to ask to get one year where nothing happened? It certainly seemed that way.

"I need to pick up some books before the day's over." Hermione said as she stood up, "Would you like to come with or go visit Zonkos or Honeydukes?"

"Zonkos," Harry replied too quickly, only taking a moment to realise he was going alone. No Ron to point out items and tell stories about the things Fred and George got up to with them.

She laughed softly, "I'll get you reading books on your own one day! See you in a bit, Harry." She picked up her bag and started heading towards the village with a wave. Harry felt a pang of loneliness as she walked away — and swiftly squashed it. He could've gone with her but decided not to.

With a sigh he grabbed his own things, threw on his cloak, and started making his way back to the castle. He had no intention of stopping in Zonkos' alone.

\--oOoOo--

As he was making his way out of Hogsmeade back towards the castle Moody came up beside him and clapped him on the shoulder. Under his cloak. "Nice cloak, Potter."

"Wha—" Moody's real eye wasn't looking at him, just the magical one. Eerily peering at him for moments before darting around, sometimes to look straight through the back of Moody's head, only to come back to peer at him. "Can your eye — I mean, can you —?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks, and it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Hagrid was with Moody and was beaming down at Harry too. The giant man certainly couldn't see him, but he bent down briefly to fiddle with his shoes. "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak." He straightened up quickly. "We'd best be going Alastor, got homework to be gradin' don' we?"

Moody grunted in response and marched off after Hagrid.

Harry could only wonder what Hagrid wanted him down at his cabin for; Midnight was awfully close to his conversation with Sirius… but if Hagrid was asking him to sneak out late at night it was probably important.

\--oOoOo--

Dragons. The only thought that filled Harry's head as he stumbled back into the Gryffindor common room was dragons. Giant, fire breathing, dragons. Dragons that he had to face in just a few days. That he was going to fight — or get past like Charlie had said. He shouldn't have jinxed himself when talking to Hermione, of course it was going to be sodding dragons!

He absently rubbed his forearm as he hissed the password at the Fat Lady; at least he wasn't facing a basilisk again. The dragons would burn him from the outside in instead of the inside out. Some small comfort that was.

He couldn't even remember what kind of dragons they were; he knew Charlie had said that too, but he just couldn't remember over the overwhelming thought of giant, vicious, man-eating, fire breathing, _Dragons._

Hagrid's Norbert had been bad enough back in first year.

He pulled off his cloak and threw himself in front of the fire, the room had seemed deserted when he entered but within moments he felt someone poke his side.

"Well?" Hermione whispered from under a pile of blankets, "What'd Hagrid want to tell you?"

"Hermione!" Harry yelped, jumping away from her sudden appearance. "What're you doing down here?"

Her head poked up out of her cocoon and she rolled her eyes at him, shadows flickering on her face from the dim light of the fireplace. "You told me Hagrid wanted to see you; he's fond of you and the gamekeeper. If anyone knew what dangerous beast you'll be facing in the first task it would be him, and he can't keep a secret to save his life." She poked him again, hard. "So, what'd Hagrid want to tell you?"

"Dragons."

She sighed. "Okay, dragons. Should've known. How many? What breeds? Did he say what you had to do to them — even Dumbledore couldn't fight a dragon on his own easily — or anything else?"

"Um, four. There were four and — Hermione I'm here to talk to Sirius! What're you doing down here!"

"You said you'd be alone, Harry. Not with a girl."

"Hello, Sirius!" Hermione said happily, "Nice to see you again. You're looking a lot better."

Sirius _was_ looking a lot better, Harry realised. When they'd said goodbye he had been gaunt and his features sunken, his hair matted and long. Now he was clean-shaven, his hair cut short and clean, and his face much fuller. He looked a lot like the man in the photograph taken at his parent's wedding; the only picture he had of his godfather.

"Sirius — how're you doing?"

"Never mind me, how are you? And hello to you too, Hermione, didn't recognise you at first. Thank you again for the rescue."

"I'm —" He almost said 'fine', but he couldn't. Not that it would have worked with Hermione present, she hated when he said that. So he began to talk, how no one — except Hermione, as she pointed out firmly — believed he hadn't entered the tournament willingly, how Rita Skeeter had twisted his words and lied in her article, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being the subject of whispers and glares, how Ron abandoned him because he was jealous…

Other than to point out she had believed him Hermione remained quiet, letting him vent to Sirius in peace. Her presence was a reassuring comfort as she held onto his hand to remind him he wasn't completely alone.

"… and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner." He finished and sagged into his seat.

Hermione huffed beside him and bopped him on the head lightly. "You are _not_ a goner, Harry! I was a _goner_ when a twelve-foot troll cornered me in a bathroom, but you saved my life! Ginny was a _goner_ when she was possessed and nearly killed in the Chamber of Secrets, but you saved her and killed the basilisk! Sirius was a _goner_ but you went through time and cast a perfect Patronus to save him too! You… You…" She had tears that glistened in the firelight as she pulled him into her and hugged him tightly. "You are _not_ a goner, Harry. I won’t let you lose to a stupid dragon. I won't."

Sirius's expression was concerned at first but brightened as Hermione continued her rant. By the time she had finished, he was grinning. "Right you are Hermione — Dragons we can deal with, but we'll get to that in a minute. I haven't got long here… I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" Harry had felt better briefly as Hermione heaped praise upon him, reminding him of all the things he had done, making him believe he could survive this, but Sirius was concerned about something else? Surely there couldn't be anything worse than dragons coming?

"Karkaroff," said Sirius. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes — he — what?"

"We do — Karkaroff was a Death Eater who stopped himself from getting sentenced by selling out his fellow Death Eaters to the Ministry. Not that all of them ended up in prison anyway, like Malfoy or Snape—"

"Snape's a Death Eater?!"

Hermione just stared at Harry for a moment before nodding. "Yes, but he's… Dumbledore vouched for him, as a spy against Voldemort. Either way, I doubt Karkaroff was the one to put Harry's name in—"

"Now see here, Hermione, he's a good actor. He did get the ministry to free him, didn't he? Now I've —"

"He got them to free him by selling out more than a dozen other Death Eaters! If Voldemort came back—" Sirius flinched at the name, and Harry was surprised Hermione said it so freely, "—then Karkaroff would be in trouble for removing so many of his followers. He's _furious_ that Harry got in, to the point of trying to have the tournament cancelled. It's worth watching him, but right now? Harry needs a plan to deal with the dragons."

Sirius stared at her for a moment and Harry was worried they would get into a fight, one he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop — a terrible way to ruin his talk with his godfather, he thought — but Sirius sighed. "Fine. Dragons — just _do_ keep an eye on Karkaroff — there's a way, and it's fairly simple. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell — dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon —"

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," said Harry, and Hermione nodded next to him.

"But you can do it alone, there is a way, and a simple spell's all you need. Just look up the Conjunctivitis Curse. A dragon's weak spot is its eyes — blind them and—"

"Oh no! Don't even think about doing that, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "Dragons have a keen sense of smell and an even better sense of hearing! If you want it to be unable to see you, just use your ruddy cloak, don't go sending the dragon into a frothing rage. It'll kill you."

"Come now, it's a good plan!"

"I can think of a better one — Harry's the best flier in our year, better than anyone! If he just gets his firebolt—"

"I'm only allowed my wand, Hermione."

"—by casting the _summoning charm_ that he's been learning for the last month," she finished with a glare at being interrupted, "then he'll be able to get past it just fine. That's what Charlie said, isn't it? That you need to get past the dragon, not fight it?"

"Uh, yeah…" Between learning an entirely new spell in a few days and flying on his broom, Harry knew what he'd pick. At least he had a lot of practice with the summoning charm, even if it hadn't been working terribly well. "He did say that."

"I'll admit, I like that idea better than mine. You sure about dragons having a good sense of hearing?" Sirius questioned from within the fire.

"Yes, definitely. Although it does depend somewhat on the breed — Hungarian Horntails, for example, can navigate entirely by sound if they have to."

Harry paled. "That's, uh, one of the dragons Charlie mentioned. A Hungarian Horn—" He paused, hearing footsteps coming down the spiral staircase to the boy's dorm. He quickly gestured for Sirius to leave. "Go!" He hissed, _"Go!_ There's someone coming!"

Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire, and Hermione moved to do the same, standing close next to him — if someone saw Sirius' face within the walls of Hogwarts the would raise an almighty uproar — the Ministry would get dragged in — it didn't bear thinking about.

Hermione reached down and bundled up the invisibility cloak from where Harry had dropped it. Just as the footsteps were getting too close there was a tiny _pop!_ In the fire behind them and he knew Sirius was gone. Hermione stayed close and whispered into his ear. "Do you mind if I borrow the cloak? I can go down tomorrow and check what other dragons there are, for research purposes."

"Sure," he replied absently, staring at the stairs watching for the person who had decided to go for a stroll in the middle of the night, interrupting his time with Sirius, and ruining their planning session.

It was Ron. Hermione spat out an uncharacteristic curse beside him, and Harry glared at the red-head.

"Oh. It's you two. Can't find enough time alone during the day that you're breaking curfew?"

"Curfew for fourth years is being inside Gryffindor tower, not our dormitories, Ronald." Hermione snapped. "So long as we make it to classes on time we're not treated entirely like children anymore."

Ron's cheeks turned pink at her rebuke. "Be that way then — I was just wondering what _He_ was doing out of bed. Should've known." Ron turned around and shrugged. "I'm going back to bed."

"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?" Harry shouted. He knew that Ron didn't know Harry was talking to Sirius that night, that he hadn't done it on purpose, but he didn't care. Then and there he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several bare inches of ankle showing beneath his pyjama trousers.

"Sorry about that," Ron glowered over his shoulder, even his ears turning red in anger. "Should've realised you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll leave you and Hermione to snog in peace and plan out your next interview detailing your _relationship."_

Harry stepped forward, but Hermione marched right past him. She jabbed Ron in the shoulder, hard. "Shut up, Ronald. Just because you're an insensitive git doesn't mean you get to act like everyone else is." She then spun away and stormed off toward the girl's dormitory. "Good night, Harry." She called over her shoulder.

Harry strode passed Ron, who stood there staring at Hermione's back. He was taken aback by how angry Hermione had seemed — he knew she hadn't been talking to Ron, but she had seemed angrier than he was briefly. What had happened between the two of them that he hadn't noticed? He had expected Ron to shout something at her, or at him, but Ron hadn't even followed him up the stairs by the time he was behind the curtains of his bed.

He was mad at Ron; for not believing him, for not knowing Harry hated the attention, for ignoring him for so long, and for interrupting his time with Sirius. Hermione had cut into it too, but she had been there to _help._ Which was different.

He had begun to wonder if he would ever repair his friendship with Ronald Weasley by the time he finally fell asleep.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The next day saw Harry and Hermione holed up in their little retreat, the room strewn with transfigured pillows, and Harry practising the summoning charm furiously. He'd been left alone to do it for a while when Hermione went down to look at the dragons herself, but he hadn't made much progress.

With her back and reading one of a half-dozen books on the different breeds of dragons, it wasn't much better. He whipped his wand towards a pillow again, " _Accio_ pillow!" and while it did move towards him it was sluggish and only made it halfway before stopping.

He sighed and moved to drop down by Hermione, earning a poke in his side for interrupting her reading without warning. He looked over the books she'd collected; _why_ was she going so far for him?

"I thought you would've hated cheating, and you're here _helping_ me cheat."

She stilled, her eyes gone wide, and let out a slow and frustrated breath. "Harry… you aren't a champion. You didn't enter this tournament willingly." She said, turning to look him in the eye. "You're the victim of a murder plot — if you think I care one bit about some stupid tournament's rules when your life is on the line? Well, you'd be wrong." She drooped, her shoulders sagged and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm a better friend than that, surely."

For all that she had said it, she didn't sound sure. She was a better friend than Ron, the best friend he could think to have right now — she had become fun, while still remaining helpful, bossy, and determined. He needed her enforced help now more than ever, to make sure he survived this. If it was just him and Ron he'd probably still be fumbling around trying to think of a plan while the dragon roasted him alive.

"Oh," he said in reply, unable to understand how she could think she wasn't a good friend. "Um, it's okay, Hermione? You're a good friend, I was… I was making a joke?"

He reached out gingerly and took her hand — Hermione had been grabbing him all month, wrapping him up in hugs, taking him by the arm, but he'd never been the initiator — and within moments she had launched herself into his chest and was trying to squeeze his ribs until they cracked.

"Not your fault," she murmured, "just some… bad memories. It was kind of funny, now that I think about it."

She wriggled her way up to placing her head on his shoulder without letting go of him for a moment, then suddenly hauled him upright. "C'mon, there's no point me telling you the weaknesses of the different dragons unless you can cast that spell!"

Hermione stood behind him, one arm around his chest, her head on his shoulder, and the other wrapped around his wand hand. She gently guided through the motions of the spell, " _Acc-io_ , it's all about wanting, Harry. Think of having a nice and peaceful nap and you so desperately need that pillow so you can lie down and sleep."

He could feel her breath tickling the side of his neck, and as he cast the spell she pressed up into his back — and suddenly he was more aware than ever that Hermione was a _girl_ as what were unmistakably her breasts were forced against him at an angle that made their presence clear in a way her normal hugs did not.

Harry jumped. The tickling on his neck and the surprise from behind him startling him awfully. "I'm getting hungry — why don't we have lunch in the hall today?!" He yelped, breaking away from her hold as quickly as he could.

Hermione let him go without much resistance, but she narrowed her eyes and stared at him. It was several tense moments before she rolled her eyes, summoned her books and bag, grabbed Harry's arm, and marched him out of the classroom.

"Lunch then. But don't think you're getting out of practice for long, Harry!"

Something was definitely up with Hermione. Ever since his name came out of the goblet she'd been more… _physical_ and affectionate. Most of the time it was kind of nice, but sometimes it was just _odd._ Or went too far. Today was one of those days where he simply didn't know what to think about his, decidedly female, best friend.

\--oOoOo--

Sunday went and Monday came, leaving Harry only a little closer to mastering the summoning charm — except now he also had classes to deal with. Herbology seemed an incredibly pointless subject when facing one of four murderous dragons; a Hungarian Horntail, a Swedish Short-Snout, a Common Welsh Green, or a Chinese Fireball.

As he was ruminating on his upcoming fiery death Harry spied Cedric in the hallway. "Hermione — you go on to class, I'll catch up."

She stopped, glanced in the same direction as him, and shook her head. "You don't need the attention of being late, I can tell him. Go on, get to class!" She pushed him down the hall, away from Cedric and started walking towards the Hufflepuff. Harry lingered long enough to see Cedric turn around and begin talking, but when the older boy glanced his way Harry hurried off.

Hermione could handle it.

\--oOoOo--

"And the Hungarian Horntail — it's considered the most dangerous breed of dragon;. it has an incredible sense of smell, and it's hearing is excellent, so you shouldn't try to hide from it. But — and this is where you need to pay attention, Harry, — it's very aggressive and easy to trick compared to other dragons. It also doesn't have the agility to turn around mid-flight quickly unlike a Swedish Short-Snout, and while fast it isn't as fast as a Firebolt."

Hermione laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh, "If you'd had the time to practice I could see you doing one of those wonky-faints on the Horntail, ploughing it into the ground as it tried to chase you. Assuming, of course, that the organisers are insane enough to leave the dragons without proper restraints."

"They're wizards, Hermione," Harry said, looking at the pillows across the room. " _Accio Pillow!_ Do you think they have an ounce of common—" To his surprise, the pillow flew forward and he barely caught it before it flew straight into his face.

"You did it!" Hermione leapt up and tackled him, grinning down at him like a loon. "You finally did it — now we need to make sure it wasn't a fluke, that you can summon something from farther away, and that you can get it around obstacles and out of restraints."

Harry groaned. His elation at succeeding was short-lived under Hermione's requirements. With the task less than twenty-four hours away he had to get it perfect _today._ Then the rest of what Hermione had said registered. " _Wonky-faint_ , Hermione?" He stared at her, knowing she knew better from their previous conversations.

She just laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. Something he hadn't seen her do before. "Got you, Mister Potter," Harry blushed — from the teasing, of course — and couldn't help but notice just how pink her tongue was. "Your face when you noticed I said it wrong," she lapsed into laughter again and Harry's face just got redder as she held onto him and giggled.

"Now, let's get back to practising." She said once she finally calmed down. "You've got the basics so this shouldn't take long at all."

\--oOoOo--

Hermione was right that it didn't take long, within an hour he was pulling heavy books across the room, around corners, and had summoned one of his shirts from his dormitory to their classroom. He hoped no one had spotted it as it flew around outside the castle, but at least it hadn't come shooting down the hallways.

"Once more and we're done I think. Try to pull this out of my hands—" She hefted up one of her borrowed books on dragons, "—it's hardest to summon something a person is holding or carrying, their presence interferes with the charm a little."

" _Accio Book!"_ He said, and the book flew right out of Hermione's hands and into his own.

"There are so many things a summoning charm can do, but you've got the basics, and the more advanced uses, down. It's just a matter of creativity from here." She beamed at him, clearly proud of him finally succeeding. It was a good feeling for him too, having her look at him like that.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well… like this, _Accio Pillow!"_ One of the pillows strewn across the room flew into the back of Harry's head with surprising force, but Hermione wasn't done. " _Accio Wand!"_ Harry's wand snapped out of his hand and flew to Hermione, where she caught it and grinned. "The summoning charm can work a lot like the disarming charm — although _Expelliarmus_ has a bit of force behind it to stagger and loosen the grip of the target; however, _Accio_ is _much_ faster to say and cast than _Expelliarmus_."

She held up Harry's wand and examined it closely. "And summoning things from behind someone tends to be quite surprising."

"Can I have my wand back?" Harry asked and took a step forward, mirrored by Hermione taking a step back.

She hummed and grinned widely, still staring at his wand. "Maybe… maybe you need to catch me first!" She dashed away, making a start for the doorway.

Harry moved to intercept her, but she slipped past and he only brushed her robes with his fingers. "Hermione!" He yelled, making to sprint after her, but his only response was laughter. "Get back here! Give me my wand back!"

She led him on a merry chase, taking advantage of her earlier growth spurt and longer legs to keep her distance. Harry was surprised at how she could keep running though — he knew she spent most of her time reading, where he normally spent a lot of time practising Quidditch or working himself to exhaustion at the Dursleys. He should be in better shape than her, shouldn't he?

Eventually, both of them huffing and puffing, came to a stop in a dead-end with a wide window looking out over the lake. They hadn't seen a single person during their chase despite all the noise they made — Hogwarts was an immense castle and people rarely left the more populated areas. He stepped up to where she was looking out the window and clapped a hand on her shoulder, more roughly than he usually would, but she didn't even flinch.

Hermione turned around and smiled up at him. "You caught me, then." She wrapped her arms around him before pulling him up against the windowsill. "That was fun," she said between heavy breaths, "don't you agree?"

Still panting and definitely sweating more than he liked, Harry was surprised to find himself agreeing. "Yeah, it was. Now give me my wand back!" His voice had no heat to it, and he couldn't help the smile that spread over his own face.

He felt her push something into his back pocket and they relaxed, enjoying the view from their high tower. Harry wished all of his days were like this — learning magic and having fun with his friends. With his friend. Tomorrow wasn't going to be a good day.

After a while, what seemed to be about half an hour, Hermione wrinkled her nose and frowned. "Okay, you need a shower. Now you're all stinky."

He looked at her incredulously; what on earth had she been expecting after making him chase her halfway across Hogwarts? "And what about you, miss-keep-away?"

"I know deodorant charms — so I'm not stinky." She stood up and grimaced. "I do however need a shower, this feels gross."

It was Harry's turn to laugh as they summoned their things from their practice room and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. He was incredibly lucky to have Hermione as a friend, even if she didn't make sense sometimes.

\--oOoOo--

Harry waved to Hermione as she walked away from the champions' tent. She'd given him one last hug before he went in, although she'd hesitated with her arms on his shoulders before finally letting go and wishing him good luck. The puzzle that Hermione Granger had become was a strange one, but he had bigger things to deal with. Fire breathing things.

Professor McGonagall had shown an uncharacteristic amount of concern as she had escorted him from the Great Hall, even so far as to ignore Hermione's presence as they had walked to the tent. It was still too little too late for him to believe his head of house truly cared for him though. Where was she when Malfoy was peddling his badges? When everyone was calling him a cheat and a liar? When the school was mocking him and Hermione over their supposed relationship? Nowhere. She ignored it and let Snape get away with acting just like he always did, and the Slytherins had free rein to taunt him.

Within the tent, Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum, and Cedric had already arrived. Cedric was pacing, he paused to flash Harry a smile, but quickly resumed his march back and forth. Fleur Delacour looked pale and clammy, clearly afraid of what was to come. Viktor Krum merely looked _more_ surly and shot Harry a glare as he took a seat.

It might've just been because Harry was the last to arrive, as Bagman quickly began explaining the task. Fetching a golden egg from the nest of a dragon. A mother dragon. Hermione had warned him dragons were especially vicious when protecting their eggs, and he wondered if things could get any worse for him.

None of the champions spoke, all simply nodding to show their understanding. Harry didn't feel like he could speak without being sick; that was certainly how Harry felt. They, at least, had volunteered for this. He hadn't.

Then, after a veritable storm of voices passed by outside the tent — all cheerful, excited, and joyful — Bagman stopped waiting for their response and proffered the bag containing the models of the creatures they would have to face. The dragons.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.

She reached into the bag with a shaking hand and withdrew a tiny, perfect model of a dragon — the Swedish Short-Snout. It had the number one around its neck. She showed no surprise at the sight of the model, and Harry had been right in thinking that Madame Maxine had told her about the dragons.

Krum remained as surly as ever as he pulled out his dragon — a Chinese Fireball. It had the number three — Harry realised it must be the order they were going in. He cursed under his breath; the Chinese Fireball would've been easy for him to beat. It couldn't smell at all since it used its nostrils to breathe flame, and its sense of hearing was awful. If he'd gotten the fireball he could've summoned his invisibility cloak and walked right past that particular dragon. Even if it meant showing off his cloak for the entire school to see.

Krum didn't react, not even a blink. He just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag and winced, he pulled out a model of the Hungarian Horntail which had decided to bite his hand rather than him picking it up. It had the number four tied around its neck.

"Oh, feisty little thing… Don't you worry, it's not venomous or anything." Bagman said jovially, failing miserably to reassure the rapidly paling Cedric.

The only dragon left was the Common Welsh Green, with the number two around its neck. Not the fastest of dragons, but more agile in the air than the Horntail. More docile too, so there was that. He probably had the least dangerous dragon of them all. Not that saying _least dangerous_ meant much when talking about dragons.

"Well, there you are! You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which…" Harry tuned Bagman out, he would be going second. It wouldn't be long until he had to face it — in some ways he was glad, he wouldn't have to worry for as long. On the other hand, he might just end up dying sooner.

Harry's musing was interrupted by Bagman clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Huh?"

"Weren't listening, were you?" Bagman huffed and looked about nervously, "I asked if I could have a quick word? Outside?"

Remembering what happened with Rita Skeeter the last time he followed someone sketchy somewhere to have a private talk he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Don't you need to be going?"

"Really, I insist." Bagman tried pushing Harry towards the entrance to the tent, but Harry ducked his arm and remained in place.

"No. No, thank you. My turn won't be long, so I'll wait right here."

Bagman stared at Harry for a few moments, but Harry could see Cedric nodding approvingly before going back to staring at his draconic model. He looked positively terrified.

A whistle sounded and Bagman jumped. "Good lord, I've got to run!" He spared one last worried look at Harry before he hurried off.

Delacour stood up and began walking out of the tent, her poise only belied by the paleness of her features. "Good luck," Harry managed to say as she passed. She looked at him briefly and nodded, but paid him no other mind.

The sounds of the crowd grew to a roar not long after, signalling Delacour's arrival in the arena. It was worse than he expected as he sat there and listened. The screaming grew louder, then gasps rang out, echoing with thousands of voices. He had only experienced anything like it at the world cup, not even the school Quidditch matches came close.

He decided he was glad to be going second. Waiting through three other variations of the crowd's exaltations would have been torturous.

It must have been ten minutes before applause could be heard, and Bagman screamed that she had gotten away with her golden egg.

A whistle blew, and it was Harry's turn. Cedric managed to look up and mouth something at Harry, but he couldn't hear him. All Harry could hear was the sound of his own blood pumping in his veins as he walked out of the tent.

\--oOoOo--

The Welsh Green was a relatively small dragon. The key word, Harry already knew, being 'relatively'. It was curled over its nest, its tail hid its eggs from sight as it kept one slightly wary eye on the spectators surrounding the arena. Harry stood staring at it for almost a minute, the roar of the crowd dying down as he failed to act. But other than a cursory glance in his direction, the Welsh Green didn't seem to care about his presence.

Not that he believed that would last if he approached its eggs.

He focused on his firebolt, laid on his bed with the window open so it could easily escape, and shouted. " _Accio Firebolt!"_ For a scant few moments nothing seemed to happen, save the dragon turning its eye his way once again. Then, just as he worried he had messed up, that it wasn't coming, he heard a whistling sound.

He turned and saw it, many members of the crowd pointing at it in the sky. Hurtling down towards him at great speed was his broomstick. It arrived, stopping midair beside him as if waiting for him to mount. The crowd roared and Bagman began shouting once more — but he didn't care. They weren't important. The dragon was.

He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off, and he felt free. He could do this. Flying was as natural as breathing to him, and as he flew high into the air he _knew_ he could get past the dragon and claim the golden egg. So long as he could coax it away from its nest long enough to even _see_ it.

The spectators were little more than flesh-coloured pin-pricks when he stopped ascending, and the Welsh Green looked barely larger than Crookshanks. He just had to bait the dragon out — what was it Hermione had said, that he could have used a Wronski Feint on the Horntail?

He would have to annoy it enough to follow him. It was a good thing he was used to flying one-handed to try and catch the Snitch already, as he pulled out his wand and held it tightly. He'd have to be extremely careful not to drop it.

Before trying to pester the dragon with magic he tried one test dive, straight down towards the dragon. It only raised its head to roar at him, a musical sound that seemed oddly out of place coming from such a large creature. He cut off his dive and turned flat along the ground, barely a dozen feet away from the dragon at his closest.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman over the roar of the crowd.

It was watching him now, hovering protectively over its eggs. He circled it several times and it didn't let its eyes off him once, clearly agitated by his dive and the sound of the spectators.

"Okay, let's try this then…" He circled in closer and cast the simplest offensive spell he could think of. " _Flipendo!"_ he didn't aim for the dragon itself, but its tail. The tail wrapped around the eggs he could now just barely see, one shining gold amongst mottled green and brown.

The spell smacked against the tail, barely causing a twitch, but one egg wobbled slightly. The Welsh Green roared again and breathed out a gout of flame. Harry nimbly dodged the narrow stream of fire, twisting around it easily.

He repeated the trick a few times and the dragon grew ever more agitated, and its flames even seemed to diminish after the fifth breath — whatever fuelled its inner inferno weakened from overuse. But still it barely moved from its eggs, unwilling to give up its position.

"Maybe I should've learned that curse…" Harry groaned, and tried one more dive.

This time the dragon tried something different; it whipped its tail out viciously, the air echoed with a sharp crack as it came in at Harry. It had finally left the eggs fully open and he dodged the tail, diving in towards the eggs — only to be greeted by a snarling maw hovering inches above the nest. The eggs weren't hidden or covered but were perilously close to very sharp dragon teeth. He backed away and began to hover just out of reach, ready to dodge if the dragon made even the slightest move towards him.

Its tail swished back and forth in the air, like an especially angry cat. He couldn't see how he was going to get past it if it refused to move away from the nest. He'd be risking life and limb to get that close.

_"There are so many things a summoning charm can do, but you've got the basics, and the more advanced uses, down. It's just a matter of creativity from here."_ Hermione's voice sounded in his head. It couldn't be _that_ simple, could it? It was worth a try at least. The dragon wasn't holding its eggs in place any more.

" _Accio Golden Egg!"_

The egg shifted in the nest, wobbled for half a second, before it burst free and flew at Harry. He caught it and staggered back from the impact, worried that the dragon would chase after him, but it didn't. It stared at the egg in his hands, then down at its own green and brown brood, then nestled over them and hid them from view.

It let out another musical roar, one which overpowered the roar of the crowd as they cheered for his retrieval of his prize.

Somehow it had been that simple. Not that using the charm right away would have worked with how the eggs had been wrapped up by the dragon's tail.

He felt slightly dazed as he left the arena without even a scratch. His robes might be a little singed, but he hadn't even felt that warm with the wind rushing past the entire time. He had succeeded. He was alive.

\--oOoOo--

He staggered out of the medical tent, feeling more abused by Madame Pomfrey than he had from the dragon. She didn't seem able to believe he hadn't been hurt. Fleur had come away from the Short-Snout unscathed except for a few burns from what had apparently been an errant _sneeze_ of all things.

He hadn't been outside for more than a moment before the rather expected hug came from Hermione, nearly bowling him over. "Harry, you were brilliant! You even cast spells while flying! You didn't practice that at all." She squeezed him tighter. "And you weren't hurt — I'm so surprised you didn't get the Horntail, that would've been just your luck… you were amazing."

She let go and beamed at him, the widest smile he had ever seen on her face. But Harry couldn't help his attention being drawn elsewhere. Ron, his face white and staring at Harry blankly.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "Whoever put your name in that goblet — I — I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

For a moment it was as if the last few weeks had never happened — how it should've been right after he had been made champion.

"Caught on, have you?" Harry snarled, "Took you long enough."

Hermione glared at Ron, making her own displeasure with the redhead clear. Ron was about to apologise, but Hermione was almost scaring him off "You're—" she started, but paused as Harry placed a hand on her arm and shook his head gently.

Staring at Ron, with the sound of the crowd still cheering for him, Harry realised he didn't need an apology. He just wanted his friend back. Facing a dragon put stupid squabbles into perspective — Ron deserved a second chance, didn't he?

"It's okay," he said, cutting Ron off before he could get the words out. "Forget it."

Hermione looked at Harry in shock, but he barely noticed.

"No, I shouldn't've—" Ron began, but Harry cut him off again.

" _Forget it,"_ Harry repeated.

Ron grinned awkwardly at him, and Harry grinned back.

Hermione took a step back and burst into tears.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry snapped at her, feeling quite confused by her behaviour. He'd forgiven Ron, and Ron had slighted him, not Hermione. Why was she upset?

"You are so s _tupid, Harry!"_ she shouted, stamping her foot before turning and running off without another word.

"Barking mad," Ron said, shaking his head, "Harry, c'mon. They'll be putting up your scores. And if we're quick we can catch what's left of Krum's task!"

Harry stared at Hermione, not understanding why she was so upset. He'd just won. She should've been happy for him! Deciding to put Hermione out of his mind he trailed after Ron. He needed to get his scores anyway.

\--oOoOo--

After the task was completely over Harry followed Ron back to Gryffindor tower — watching the later half of Krum's struggle against his Chinese Fireball and the entirety of Cedric's fight against the Hungarian Horntail had been everything he'd imagined it would be. Shouting and hollering along with everyone else.

Everyone had shrieked in horror — save a few terrible people, Malfoy surely amongst them, who whooped at the viciousness of it — when Cedric had been hit with the Horntail’s tail immediately after he got his egg. He’d flown more than a dozen feet at least!

The rest of the Gryffindors had spent plenty of time slapping him on the back, congratulating him for doing so well. It was a startling difference to how it had been just that morning.

His score had been brilliant, better than anyone else's. Madam Maxine had given him a nine, Mr Crouch another nine, Bagman and Dumbledore had both given him tens, and Karkaroff had given him an obviously reluctant six. Ron had yelled out, along with many others, at the Durmstrang Headmaster's biased scoring.

He was in first place and by a fair margin. Krum had come closest with a score of forty to Harry's forty-four.

He'd gone back to the Champions tent to hear about the second task as Ron dashed off to send an owl to his mum, but now, back in Gryffindor Tower, he was enjoying the party. It wasn't at all like the one when his name came out of the goblet where no one had listened to him, they were all rapt as he spoke about his idea, how he wasn't trying to hurt the dragon just lure it away from its eggs long enough to get the egg.

The only person missing was Hermione. But she'd been by his side all of the last month, he could spend some time away from her. And besides, she'd show up eventually.

It wasn't until he went to bed that evening he realised she hadn't turned up at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I randomised the dragons. It was quite funny when I realised the more docile Welsh Green would make Harry's plan harder rather than easier; not as easily riled into abandoning its eggs.  
> Poor Cedric, however, got the short stick and the stay in the Hospital Wing.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a week and Hermione hadn’t said a word to him. He’d seen her the day after the task in the common room while he was playing a game of chess with Ron, enjoying having his first friend back, but she didn’t come over. She stared for a minute and left. Harry had almost chased after her, to ask what was wrong, but Ron pulled him back to their game.

He lost, but that wasn’t anything new. He always lost at chess when he played Ron.

He’d been hoping to talk to Hermione about his egg, if she had any idea what it might be — he certainly didn’t know what all the shrieking and wailing was about — but after that one time, he only saw her in classes, and she bustled off the moment they ended. She hadn’t even sat with him in potions, partnering with Neville instead.

But Harry had decided a week was long enough. Even Malfoy had noticed, congratulating him on ‘ditching the Mudblood’. Snape hadn’t taken any points off, even though Malfoy had interrupted potions class to say it.

Now he sat as close to the door as he could after Charms class on Monday, knowing she would sit as far away from him as she could. She had every other class — even moving if he tried to get closer. It didn’t make sense, she’d sat with a pair of Slytherins rather than be near him in Transfiguration after he’d dropped down next to her. At least it’d give him a chance to grab her without being able to escape like she kept doing before.

Harry didn’t pay attention to Professor Flitwick at all, even Ron took more notes than he did. Instead, he was intent on watching Hermione and making sure she didn't get away. When class finally ended Ron tried to drag Harry away, off to mess around a bit more. Or maybe even do some of their homework.

“C’mon mate, let’s go get this ruddy stuff done. It’s awful doing it without Herms to help, but she’s buggered off, hasn’t she? Gotta do it on our own.”

“No. You go ahead, I’m going to try talking to her.” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Ron’s attempt at a nickname. Hermione would never let him get away with that if she was here.

“Alright,” Ron leaned against the wall next to Harry, shoving his hands into his pockets to pull out a couple of Honeydukes candies that he tossed into his mouth. “Want to get some help, then?”

“No, you go ahead. I don’t think she’ll listen if you’re here — I’ll stick around and wait for her. Alone.”

Ron stared at Harry as he chewed before swallowing and then scowled. “She’s been right pissy at me. Every time I tried to talk to her she just went on and on about how I shouldn’t be looking to her for help, that after… that I wasn’t her friend anymore.” Ron scoffed and pushed off from the wall. “I suppose you’re right, mate. Not sure I’d want to talk to her anyway — maybe you shouldn’t even bother with how she’s got her knickers in a twist over nothin’.”

Harry took in a deep breath. He didn’t like Ron insulting Hermione. “Just go, Ron.”

“Yeah, sure,” the red-head waved languidly as he walked off, his grumbling audible even through the murmur of the crowd leaving the classroom.

Harry kept his focus on the crowd leaving the classroom. He hadn’t let his eyes off the doorway, watching for the tell-tale messy head of brown hair that meant Hermione was coming out. She was amongst the last to leave, and he received a number of glances for standing there waiting next to the doorway.

As soon as he saw her he grabbed her arm. “Hermione! We need to talk.”

She huffed, glancing at the slowly dissipating crowd. “At least you picked a free period to do this,” she muttered.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Hermione stared at him, her brow furrowed and her mouth curled down into a frown. “Really? It’s been a week and you _still_ haven’t figured it out?” She grit her teeth and glowered at him. “Do you even care?!” She spat.

Harry was taken aback, letting go of her arm. She took a step away from him, ready to turn and leave. “I really don’t know! I won the task, I lived, why did that upset you? I even got first place!”

“I don’t care about whether you got first place or last! I spent all that time helping you, all that time making sure you were prepared and relaxed enough to handle it, and you brush me off for that jealous little prick!”

“Wha—”

“That’s why I’m mad! I came up to you, after all I did, congratulating you and you ignored me! Just to _forgive_ Ronald Billius Weasley without even a hint of an apology! He didn’t deserve it, what did he do, Harry? What did he do to deserve you forgiving him like that?!”

“He’s… he’s my friend?” Harry reeled back, Hermione got angry at Ron like this in their rows, not him. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. “I gave him a second chance. That’s what you do for friends.”

Hermione's glare faltered momentarily, but quickly returned. "True. Maybe he did deserve a second chance. But not like that, not without an apology. Not in favour of you ignoring me and acting like I wasn't even there. As if I didn't matter!" Her eyes began to glisten, her voice turned shrill as she grew louder. "I waited for you to come and see me all night, Harry! All bloody night! And then when I finally do see you the next day, you were just sitting there, playing chess, as if nothing had ever happened!

"I should have known you didn't think much of me, not after you decided I was less important than a broomstick. Well, you know what? Sod you, Potter!" She turned and sprinted away.

“Hermione!” He shouted after her, but all he achieved was to receive more stares from the few students still in earshot. Malfoy, who had stayed to watch the show, was pointing and laughing.

Harry stormed off in the opposite direction of Hermione. He didn’t want to see anyone, let along listen to Malfoy’s cackling.

\--oOoOo--

Hours later, when Harry finally made his way back to the common room it was abuzz with gossip about his argument with Hermione. How he’d thrown her aside for Ron after the task. He avoided them all, even Ron when he tried to wave Harry over for a chess game and stormed up to his dormitory. He threw himself into doing his homework, but it didn’t feel right.

It took hours to do what should’ve been half that. And then Ron came up to check on him, saw what he was doing and begged for help.

"With Hermione off being a useless know-it-all, we've got to help each other, mate," Ron said with a grin. But Harry found it was much more Harry helping Ron than Ron helping Harry; he had already finished all the assignments Ron hadn't even touched, a half a dozen that were due in only a few days at the start of the new month.

And Ron couldn’t stop talking about Hermione, or all the gossip that was spreading around the castle.

“Can you believe she was saying you only survived the task because of her, Harry? Mental, she is, saying you won because of her.” Ron guffawed loudly, “It was your flying that did it, mate. She couldn’t have helped with that!”

“She did help me,” Harry tried to defend Hermione, but Ron didn’t pay him any heed. Trying to tell him just how little he needed the person Harry had come to realise was his best friend.

He wouldn’t try to corner her again. But he’d have to think of some way to apologise, some way that she would _let_ him apologise. He had let Ron off without an apology and was beginning to regret it. Ron wasn’t trying to make up for his month-long abandonment, just pretend it had never happened.

Harry knew he would have to do better than that.

\--oOoOo--

November ended and December had begun, nearly a week ago in fact, and Harry still didn’t have any idea how he was going to apologise to Hermione. He looked at her in class, but she was still avoiding him. Figuring out how to say sorry without pressuring her like he had before was proving impossible.

In the meantime he decided the best thing he could do was do what she would want him to do — keeping up with his homework was tedious, and always attracted Ron trying to beg for help, but he managed it. Even the stupid divination assignments he usually didn’t bother to be serious with he did read the book for, maybe even for the first time.

He still thought it was a joke of a class, but him being serious about his schoolwork might make Hermione happier. It still wasn’t good enough for an apology though.

He had begun to despair over whether he’d spend all year trying to get back to being friends with both Ron and Hermione when she walked up to him and Ron in the common room.

“Harry. I need you to give me your golden egg, I need to test a theory.” She said, ignoring the furious look Ron was shooting her.

He couldn’t help it, but he stared. He hadn’t managed to be this close to her since the disastrous fight outside of charms class. She had bags under her eyes, her skin was pale, and her clothes were rumpled. Her hair had even gone back from the messy curls she had been managing since Halloween to the unkempt ball of frizz that had been her most noticeable feature in first year.

“It’s my job to solve it, isn’t it?” The words rolled out of Harry’s mouth and he had no idea what was happening, he just felt annoyed that she’d come up to him out of nowhere and demanded something after so long without talking. He shouldn’t be taking it out on her, but she was right there. “You’ve been avoiding me since the first task, what makes you care now?” He didn’t know why he was saying anything, let alone what he did.

“Yeah, you can bugger off, you glory — Ow!” Harry jabbed Ron in the ribs to shut him up, fidgeting as he waited for Hermione to say something or to walk away. He had no doubt he’d blown his chance to make things right. He felt awful right down to the pit of his stomach.

She took in a deep breath and let it out, her eyes closed and her hands held in clenched fists at her sides. “If you don’t want my help with anything, you just have to say it. I’ll go. And I won’t bother you again.”

Ron stood up and loomed over Hermione. “Help? You ran off and abandoned us! You haven’t helped in ages, I’ve had to do everything alone, and you’ve been stealing credit from Harry! You’re just a bloody useless know-it-all who doesn’t help anyone.”

“Ron!” Harry shouted, pulling the red-head back, but it was too late. Hermione was already running away again. “Ron, you git! I told you she never claimed to have done anything she didn’t! And where do you go claiming she abandoned me?! What did _you_ do when my name came out of the goblet?”

Ron stared at Harry, mouth agape and fumbling for words. “Harry, mate—”

“Save it, you hypocrite. I need to apologise.”

Harry dashed up to his dorm and grabbed the egg from his trunk and spent several minutes looking for the Marauder’s Map. He didn’t find it. Hermione had borrowed it along with his cloak when she went to look at the dragons. He groaned and tried to think of where she could have gone — the Library. It was obvious, so he would head there first.

Maybe once he apologised he could ask why she still had the map. It was his, wasn’t it? She hadn’t given his cloak back either… he could ask about that once they were friends again. He’d been a prat and he needed to fix that first.

\--oOoOo--

Harry felt monumentally stupid as he left the library. She hadn’t been there, but where she had been was obvious. Blindingly, blatantly, obvious. She was in their little retreat away from everyone else in the castle. The room she’d taken him to back on November first. Where she had spent the entire day waiting for him after the task, thinking he would avoid the party set up by people who hadn’t believed him because he didn’t enjoy the spotlight.

Of course she would be there. He slammed open the door. “Hermione!”

The room was empty and he felt a leaden weight settle in his gut. “No! Where is she?!”

He didn’t have any better idea of where she could have gone — he had been _certain_ she would be here. He threw the egg at the table they’d had their meals on in frustration, leaving a dent in it and sending the egg bouncing off the table and onto the floor. He heaved out a sigh and went to collect the egg as it rolled away, only to spot a note left behind.

He snatched it up and tore it open.

_Harry, I don’t know why you chose Ron over me, but it hurt. I’m upset. I feel like I don’t matter to you._

_But that doesn't mean I've stopped caring, that I don't want to help. I've stopped coming here — I found somewhere better to practice and work with. Dobby knows where it is and will lead you there if you're looking for me._

_If you think I’ve been avoiding you, I haven’t meant to. But I can’t listen to all the things Ron says about me anymore. I don’t want to make you choose between your friends, but until he makes up for what he’s said there won’t be a trio anymore._

_Hermione_

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered softly, unable to ignore that Hermione's normally impeccable penmanship was spotty on this one letter. "I'm an _idiot._ ” He read the letter over again before putting it in his pocket and collected his egg.

“Dobby, can you hear me?”

“Dobby always listening, Master Harry Potter Sir!” The elf appeared before him, slowly fading into view. “Dobby has a few moments before Dobby has to get back to work, but don’t worry sir! Dobby will… Dobby will…” the elf trembled slightly, his eyes darting left and right, “Dobby will… _put off work_ if it means helping the great Harry Potter!”

“Um, you… you don’t need to call me that, Dobby.” Harry shook his head at the still quivering. “Can you show me where Hermione is? Or — since you’re busy — just tell me? If that’s okay?”

“Miss Granger is in the Come and Go room! Though she calls it the Room of Requirements, sir. It be on the seventh floor, but there be a trick to getting in. Follow Dobby, Master Harry Potter Sir!”

Harry continued to protest the excitable elf's glorification of his name but to no avail. By the time they had made their way to the seventh floor, he had given up. He was used to climbing stairs, Gryffindor Tower _started_ on the sixth floor after all and only went higher, but that didn’t mean running across the castle and back left him with enough breath to argue with a house elf. Let alone one as stubborn as Dobby.

They finally stopped in front of a tapestry displaying trolls. Trolls in tutus, along with a wizard who was conducting them. Harry stared at the tapestry for a few moments, it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever seen but it certainly wasn’t typical either. It was also a moving tapestry, and the trolls kept hitting the wizard with their clubs — not that them doing so seemed to discourage him.

It was rightly labelled _Barnabas the Barmy and his Dancing Trolls._

“Simply walk back and forth in front of the tapestry sir, thinking of finding Miss Granger. She has hidden the door but Dobby is sure it will open for the Great Harry Potter Sir!” Dobby jumped excitedly as he explained before stopping abruptly. “Dobby is being yelled at, sir. May Dobby go?”

“Of course! I don’t want—”

Before Harry could finish telling Dobby he didn’t want to get him in trouble the elf had grabbed his leg and hugged it then vanished with a soft popping sound.

“—you to get in trouble.” He sighed. “Thanks, Dobby.”

\--oOoOo--

It took him several tries to make the door appear, and for a moment he had wondered if Dobby had led him astray. It hadn’t seemed in the elf’s nature though, so he kept trying, feeling like a right fool for marching back and forth in front of the dancing trolls. He decided it must’ve been because he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight — he needed to find Hermione, but he was also worried about finding her. He was getting anxious that she wouldn’t want to talk to him after Ron drove her away.

It was solid oak and set into a stone archway. It hadn’t been there one moment and was the next. He hadn’t heard anything or even seen anything, in the time it took to turn around in his pacing it had simply appeared. Harry only hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The interior was nothing like he expected — he had seen pictures of places like this and caught glimpses on the tele, but he'd never been to a swimming pool. Let alone one with large glass pane windows that looked out on the Black Lake… which he was pretty sure was on the other side of the castle.

He blinked briefly at the sight but quickly fixated on the person he had come to look for. Hermione was sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water, her robes hiked up around her knees, and staring blankly across the glistening expanse of water.

Harry plodded towards her, his throat clenching as he tried to decide exactly what he wanted to say. It was one thing to know you should apologise but actually doing it was different. He had no idea what to say. Saying sorry wouldn’t cut it. Not even a little.

He'd only gone a few feet when Hermione scrambled up from her position, wand raised and pointed at Harry, causing him to stop mid-stride. She dropped her wand almost immediately, letting out a wet giggle for half a second before cutting it off. A smile grew across her face and she dashed towards him, arms spread wide, only to stop at the last second.

She had been about to hug him. But she hadn’t. It hurt for some reason and Harry didn’t know why.

An awkward silence prevailed as they stared at each other until Harry couldn't stand it anymore. "A swimming pool — a muggle swimming pool — this is the seventh floor, right? I'm certain I climbed a bunch of stairs to get up here."

“The Room of Requirement — Did Dobby not explain it? — it can make anything you want if you have a good enough image. This is the pool I went to as a kid, although the windows there just looked out onto a parking lot.” Hermione held out her hands and began motioning furiously. The message was clear: she wanted the egg, and she wanted it _now._ “ _Harry…”_

He dropped the egg into her hands and she grinned. "I'm glad you're letting me help, I… I care about you, Harry. I truly do." She turned away and strode back to the pool. She twisted the egg and for a few moments, the awful wailing began again, only to cease as she dropped it into the water.

It wasn't wailing anymore which was certainly an improvement. Instead, it was burbling, a soft, though meaningless, burble. "Um," he turned to look at Hermione only to find her standing behind him. She looked at him curiously, her eyes sparkling. "Hermio–Ack!” She shoved him hard and he toppled over into the pool.

Harry squawked as he fell, Hermione covering her mirth with her hand as he fell in with a great splash. He flailed around, desperate to stay above the surface — the deepest water he'd ever been in was a stream Dudley had kicked him into years ago and that hadn't covered his head lying flat on the ground. Eventually, Harry found himself sitting in the water, his head tilted back and his mouth just above the surface.

“It’s the shallow end, Harry,” Hermione was crouching down at the edge of the pool, “I… I didn’t realise you were _that_ unfamiliar with swimming. I thought it’d be okay…”

Harry stared at her, his view of her face upside down from his perspective. She was fidgeting, looking aside, twitchy. She was worried he was mad. He was, a little. He’d been terrified for a few moments. He stood up slowly, his waterlogged robes draping off of him as looked Hermione in the eye.

Slowly he pushed up a wave of water and splashed Hermione with it. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, but he did it anyway. Maybe it was the worry on her face and the twisting in his gut telling him to turn it into something else. _Anything_ else.

Hermione blinked as the water splashed against her robes and her mouth gaped open wide. “Harry!” She laughed, not a faint laugh, but a loud and happy one. “You, you…!” She reached down and sent a wave of water back at him, more vigorously than he’d sent his own. He responded in kind, smiles on both their faces.

The back and forth continued for several minutes, Harry joining in with Hermione's laughter until she pulled her wand and banished a larger wave of water at him with a triumphant grin on her face. She hadn't even said anything, just waved her wand and she'd nearly toppled him over.

He drew his own wand and looked at her — he hadn't made much progress, what with her being outside of the pool while he was chest-deep in the water. As he lifted his wand she stared at him expectantly; he’d not cast the banishment charm before, but he had learned the summoning charm. He smirked; it might not be possible to summon _living_ things easily, but robes weren’t alive…

“ _Accio Robes!”_

Hermione shrieked as she flew forward into the water, and then into Harry, knocking him backwards. She scrabbled for purchase on his shoulders and pulled herself fully upright. She was half soaked and the ends of her hair drifted in the turbulent water. “You _prat,_ Harry.” She said without any heat, an enormous grin splitting her face in two. “You awful, awful, prat!”

She pulled him into a hug and laughed, a hug which he gladly returned. She was back. He still needed to say something, but he had his friend back. "Hermione, I—"

“Sssh!" She hissed, "Take a deep breath." Harry barely had a chance to understand or comply before she pulled him under the water. He struggled against her grip briefly, his almost knocking his glasses loose, but then stopped. He could hear something. It was singing.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching, ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

But past an hour — the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

When the verse finished Hermione let Harry up and he gulped in a deep breath.

“I was _right.”_ She chimed, smug satisfaction radiating off of her in waves. “The second task is all about _finding_ something, and it was either going to be in the Forbidden Forest or in the Black Lake! Mermish can only be understood underwater so all the wailing from the egg made perfect sense, we simply weren’t listening to it properly!”

She bounced on the spot, her hair barely moving with how waterlogged it was. He’d never see her like this before. And she was still next to him, her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders as they gazed at each other. Slowly a faint pink tinge grew on Hermione’s cheeks and she gently let go of Harry, taking a single step away in the shallow water of the pool.

She bit her lip, still having not unlocked her gaze from Harry’s for a moment, but he couldn’t help his eyes wandering. Her robe was as sodden as his own and it was clinging in ways the Hogwarts robes _never_ did. She had a figure, no matter what she had said before. Maybe it wasn’t much of one, but she had breasts, and hips, and legs, and he could feel his cheeks heat up as he wrenched his eyes away from her body and back up to her face.

“Um, Hermione, I—”

“So, Harry, you’ll be down in the Black Lake — there’s a merfolk colony down there, you do remember that, don’t you? Remus mentioned the denizens of the lake during his lecture on Grindylows.” Harry nodded, he vaguely remembered that, but he felt _very_ distracted by her appearance. “And they’ll take something… no, some _one_ , even if they took your firebolt you wouldn’t _sorely_ miss it. Be upset, certainly, but _sorely miss_?” She shook her head. “You aren’t that fickle.”

“Ron’d be more broken up about it than me, I think.” He murmured as she brushed dripping wet hair away from her face, mesmerised by the sight.

She let out a snort and he couldn’t help but feel the smile on her face was the most wonderful thing ever. How did she ever think she was ugly? She wasn’t. Not one bit of ugly. His eyes started drifting downward again before he yanked them back up. He wasn’t supposed to do that; not to Hermione. Even if she was most definitely pretty, he shouldn’t be staring at her like that. It was making his apology even more awkward to say. 

“Hermione, I — I’m sorry. I just… I missed having Ron as a friend. He… he was my first friend my age, I didn’t even think about how you’d feel. That you’d feel ignored. I didn’t mean to upset you — I want you to help, earlier, I don’t know what I was saying… Ron was out of line and I felt _awful._ ” He bowed his head. “Do… do you think I can get a second chance?”

His answer was a pair of very wet arms encircling him, and Hermione’s head resting on his shoulder. “I think you’ve had a second chance before, Harry…” He tensed, waiting for the anvil to fall. “… But since you asked so nicely I think I can give my best friend a third.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tighter than he ever had before, and she responded in kind.

“’N ‘m s’rry too.” She mumbled as she buried her head into his shoulder, adjusting just a little to give her mouth freedom. “I said things I shouldn’t have. I don’t believe you think less of me than a broomstick. I know you’re not like that.”

He buried his own head into her hair and was glad it was wet. No one would be able to tell if he cried. Because he hadn’t; Harry Potter didn’t cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine at this point there’s some degree of ‘Why is Ron being so nasty?’ floating about in people’s heads. I’ll just direct you to how he reacted to Hermione when he learned she was going to the ball with Viktor and how, a single month after he finally made up with Harry for ditching him, he called her a traitor.
> 
> Hermione dropped Ron, for reasons that will make sense eventually, and hasn’t been kind to him. He hasn’t taken it well.


	5. Chapter 5

Having Hermione back as his friend proved to be more work than he’d remembered. Not that he was complaining _too_ much. She was always giving him things to learn and pushing him to do better, but they were _fun_ things. Like using magic to play catch, or using illumination charms to make shadow puppets. Things he’d never had a chance to do as a child thanks to the Dursleys.

Ron hadn't taken Harry's reconciliation with Hermione happily, but at least he tried to act as if the rift had never been formed. Even if his attempts to talk to her were a little stiff. She never seemed to pay him much attention unless prompted, though; preferring to focus on Harry, or just to lean against him while she read a book. Nor had either of them invited Ron to their little training sessions, although Harry thought it'd be a great way to mend their friendship himself it was clear Hermione didn’t want to.

He wasn’t going to be an idiot and bugger things up again right after he’d fixed them.

She brought him into the cosy little sitting-room they'd been using, one which looked like everything had been pulled right out of the Gryffindor dormitories.

“I’ve found something I’d like you to learn Harry — it might not be essential to the task itself but it’ll help you a lot in the long run.”

“Oh?” Harry relaxed into a settee that was the same as his favourite in the Gryffindor common room and started up the fireplace. “What’s that then?”

She took a seat next to him, sitting sideways so they could still face one another. “Occlumency. The art of protecting, organising, and controlling one’s mind. A direct counter to Legilimency, which is the art of invading and examining other people’s minds. It helps with memorisation, controlling emotions, and theoretically against the Imperius curse.” She bit her lip and looked away. “That last one is why _I_ looked into it. I was… looking for ways to keep control of myself if I was faced with someone doing what Professor Moody did again.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Not being in control of my own actions, my own _thoughts_ , was terrifying.”

Harry leaned over and put an arm around her shoulders which she leaned into eagerly. "I guess that makes sense. It wasn't nice for me, but not that scary though…" He had broken the curse after a few tries, unlike his classmates. But even then it didn't seem that terrifying to him. Still, Hermione thought it was important… "I'll have a go at it."

"Great! I'll give you the book I've been using to start off with. Tell me when you're ready to progress." Hermione pulled herself up against Harry and squeezed him tightly. He just put his arms around her back and smiled; he'd gotten used to her hugs and didn't want to discourage her even if he worried for his ribs at times.

“Hey, Hermione… I’ve been meaning to ask, but why did you never give me back my cloak and the map?”

She pulled back enough for him to get a good look at her face as it slowly turned pink, and her teeth which were normally protruding whenever she smiled… “Hermione, your teeth! Did you do something to them?

Her hands flew to her mouth and she got redder. “Oh? You noticed? I, um, I found a charm to shrink teeth… it was while we weren’t talking and…” She smiled widely. “Do you like it?”

“They look nice, I was just surprised.” She was sitting across his lap after letting go and there were a few tense moments before she shifted away, smoothing out her robe as she sat properly on the settee. It almost seemed like she’d been waiting for him to do something. “Um, Hermione, my cloak and map?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry… I, I was using them to sneak out to the shrieking shack. I had a lot of free time so I thought I could spruce the place up a little for when Sirius turns up…”

“What? He’s a wanted man! He should stay where it’s safe.” Harry snapped, turning to Hermione accusingly.

“He’s your godfather! He’s going to worry about you and want to help!” She glared at him and shook her head. “I just didn’t want him to end up living in a _cave_ when he turns up. Or do you think the man who chased a pet rat across a country as a dog will have more sense than to turn up to help the person he cares for most?”

Harry turned away and stared at the walls. “He should stay safe. What if he gets caught?” He didn’t like people putting themselves in danger for him. Not one bit.

Hermione snorted loudly. “And now you know how _I_ feel when you go off and do something foolish.”

Harry shrugged. He didn't feel like getting into an argument about the things he did that Hermione disapproved of. It did make sense to prepare for Sirius if he decided to show up, so long as she didn't ask him to come.

“Anyway, Dobby knows where the map and cloak are. I’m sure he’ll get them for you if you want them back — or I could return them tonight if you want?”

“No, I don’t need them. It’s fine. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

Hermione hummed and bumped shoulders with him before rattling off some of the things she'd read about merfolk and the Black Lake during her latest go at researching the task. He didn't pay that much attention, but it did help him get his mind off of the possibility of Sirius doing something dangerous. It would be nice to see his godfather again, just not worth it.

\--oOoOo--

Harry was having a playful swordfight with Ron in transfiguration when McGonagall called for the class’ attention. They’d done their work — Harry had gotten his Guinea Pig transfigured not long into the class and left it in the care of Hermione, who’d gotten bored again and made a cushion for hers. She’d spent most of the class stroking their Guinea Pigs and ignoring everything around her.

Helping Ron with his classwork and the subsequent swordfight, which had ended as Haddock vs Parrot, had been a good distraction from worrying about her mood. He’d had a hard time not noticing Hermione but knew she wouldn’t want him fussing over her. It had always annoyed her when Ron did it the previous year.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, sending a glare at the fake wands transformed in their hands, "I have something to say to you all."

"The Yule Ball is approaching — a traditional part of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish —"

Harry stared at Hermione who had let out an immense sigh and dropped onto her cushion. She'd obviously known this was coming with all the research she'd done on the tournament, so why hadn't she said anything to him? A number of the other girls in the class let out giggles, all excited by the prospect, and he couldn't help wondering why Hermione reacted so differently.

“Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then —”

Harry tuned out the rest of Professor McGonagall’s lecture and groaned. If he had any choice at all he would be avoiding this event; he could see everyone staring at him and judging him already as he stood there in the dress robes Mrs Weasley had bought for him feeling completely uncomfortable.

When the bell rang he was glad to leave, hoping to talk to Hermione and tell her he felt about as enthusiastic about this event as she looked. But McGonagall had other plans as she called out over the noise of the departing class. “Potter — a word, if you please.”

He figured she was annoyed at him for disrupting the class with Ron, although that she hadn’t called Ron back made that feel a mite unfair.

“Potter the champions and their partners —”

“I’m not going to the ball Professor. I don’t _want_ to go.” He replied immediately on hearing the word ‘partners’. There was no way he was getting forced into this.

"Oh yes, you certainly are. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball. I won't let one of my students be the one to break that tradition." She answered testily, her gaze on Harry accompanied by a frown.

“I don’t dance.” He said quickly, searching for something better to say. “I don’t — traditionally this tournament only has _three_ participants, Professor!” He managed, letting out some of his frustration at the adults who had ignored the school’s behaviour towards him after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire.

“No matter the circumstances you are a Hogwarts champion and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Mr Potter.” She narrowed her steely eyes and stared down at Harry. “I will _not_ have one of my students break the traditions of this event, and I do not enjoy repeating myself.”

“But —”

“You heard me, Potter.” She said, her tone cutting off any hope of arguing against her. “You are dismissed.”

\--oOoOo--

Harry wandered back to Gryffindor Tower in a frustrated haze, wishing he could tell Professor McGonagall exactly what he thought about her stupid ball without getting in trouble. He didn’t go out of his way to break the rules! It wasn’t his fault everything kept happening around him, but she didn’t care. Not a little bit. And now he had to find someone to take to a _ball_.

He dropped into a seat next to Ron, wondering who on earth he could ask. “This is _awful_ ,” he whined, earning a look of derision from Ron.

"Yeah, 'cause you'll have trouble getting a date. You're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived and a champion to boot. Bet they'll be falling over their feet to ask you since they saw how you beat that dragon." He glowered at a group of girls who were giggling loudly as they pointed at people in the room. "Unlike me; you've seen the robes mum bought me! No one's going to want to go with _poor ol’ Ronald Weasley._ ”

“I don’t even _want_ to go!”

Ron looked at Harry as if he had two heads. “Mate, we’re not gonna get a better chance to have a date. Well, _you_ won’t. I’ll be lucky to get one.”

“Yeah, because they all want the _boy-who-lived_ , like you said.” Harry closed his eyes and tried to ignore what he was sure was a bunch of girls giggling about him. He had certainly heard his name. “And if I don’t fancy _them_ , then what’s the point?”

“Well, you’ve still got that crush on Cho, don’t you?”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up. “Er,” He hadn’t even _told_ Ron he liked Cho, but he had gone on about how pretty she was a couple of times. But he hadn’t thought about her in weeks. “I guess…”

“Well, there you go then. She’d be mental to refuse a champion asking her to the ball.” Ron nodded and went back to glowering at the girls in the room, trying to discern who he might take to the ball.

The only other girls who’d ever made Harry feel like Cho did were Katie, Angelina, and Alicia when he’d seen them changing in the Quidditch locker rooms by accident once. Katie was pretty, but the other two felt a little intimidating most of the time. And they all treated him like a little kid more often than not; Angelina was nearly a foot taller than him and it was awful.

His mind flashed back to Hermione in her soaked robes all of a sudden and what had been a faint heat in his cheeks suddenly felt like he’d been sitting too close to the fire for too long. Why _shouldn’t_ he ask Hermione to the ball? Except she’d looked pretty uninterested in the whole thing when Professor McGonagall announced it.

Maybe she didn't think anyone would ask her, that might be it. She had said unpleasant things about her appearance a few times and never seemed to feel good about herself. He looked around for Hermione

“I should ask what she thinks about the ball…”

“What was that?” Ron asked.

“Nothing.” He replied quickly, ”Hey, do you know where Hermione went after class?”

Ron frowned, still unhappy with Hermione ignoring him, “Probably buggered off up to her dorm. I don’t keep track of her, Harry. She’s made it clear what she thinks of me.” He glared at Harry for a moment before turning away.

Harry decided to keep his mouth shut. He’d never hear the end of it if Ron thought he planned to ask Hermione to the ball; that is if she wanted to _go_ to the ball. He’d find her another day.

\--oOoOo--

Harry headed to the library after breakfast to find Hermione, expecting her habits not to have changed and made it feeling only mildly accosted. He'd been overheard complaining about getting a date in the common room and word had spread across the castle that Harry Potter was looking for a date. Two different girls had come up to him to ask and at least half a dozen more were eyeing him wherever he went. From a smiling third-year Hufflepuff to the towering roommate of Katie who was taller than Angelina was. He declined both of them and dashed off quickly both times, but he still half-expected a Ravenclaw, and maybe even a Slytherin to jump out and ask just to complete the quartet.

He fell into a seat across from Hermione with relief, startling her out of her reading as he sat down. “Harry! Weren’t we going to meet up after lunch?”

“Felt like seeing you,” He mumbled. Hermione smiled at him in response and he felt his gut clench. “Hey, ah, what do you think of the ball?”

“I’ve known it was coming for a while, I thought about telling you but it… slipped my mind.” She turned away and said something Harry couldn’t hear.

“I didn’t catch that?” He asked curiously, but she shook her head. “Okay… you didn’t answer my question, though.”

“It’s a ball. I suppose it’s the dream of most girls to go to a ball with someone they like. Or even just someone at all.” She smiled sadly and shook her head. “I’m… not an exception but it’s not that important to me.” She gazed at him, chewing lightly on her lip, a hint of something Harry couldn’t quite place in her expression. “Why’d you ask?”

“I, uh, was wondering if… if you _wanted_ to go. You didn’t seem all that interested when McGonagall announced it, and well, I _have_ to go as a champion — she wouldn’t let me refuse — and… if you did want to go, if you would go with me?” He couldn’t continue looking her in the eye; his stomach was doing flipflops, his palms felt sweaty — it was _Hermione._ He _liked_ Hermione. He almost longed for that comfortable friendship they’d had before he’d made up with Ron, it had been so much easier.

But it had also been _less._ If she said yes it would be worth it. Hopefully.

He swallowed nervously when Hermione didn’t immediately respond and began to prattle. “I _know_ I said I was sorry for taking Ron back over you, and you've made up for what you said and more by helping me, so I wanted to do something." 'Like find out how you felt about me', he didn't say. 

"And I thought 'All the girls want to go to the ball, what about Hermione?' So, if you want to go, I'd like to take you. To help make up for things. If that's okay."

A pair of hands reached across the table and wrapped around his own, gently cradling them. "I'd like that, Harry," Hermione said quietly. He risked looking back up at her and saw her smiling while the faintest hints of tears glistened at the edge of her eyes. "I would really like that."

“Great,” he choked out, “but, uh, I hope you’ve got an idea on how to help me with something.” She let out a wonderful little laugh that sent his heart into overdrive, even as nervousness sent shivers down his spine. “’Cause I’ve got no idea how to dance, or how to be a good date, and my best idea’s asking Lavender what to do.”

Hermione blinked slowly then keeled over, her hands pulled away from his to cradle her head on the table as she descended into a fit of laughter. Harry fidgeted awkwardly, painfully embarrassed by what he’d said.

“It’s not _that_ funny…” he muttered.

“ _Lavender…_ Yes, yes it is, Harry." Hermione managed to say before descending into another set of giggles. She also pulled out her wand and waved it around to cast the privacy charm he had slowly become familiar with over the last two months, even if he still didn't know it himself. "I can just imagine how much she would enjoy it too, it is absolutely hilarious." She wiped her eyes quickly and beamed at him, barely suppressing her continued mirth. "Get over here. I want to hug you."

Harry almost tripped over himself as he moved around the table to sit next to her. Within moments he was wrapped up in her arms and buried beneath her curls. Then something unexpected happened — he felt something soft and slightly moist press against his cheek. She’d kissed him. On the cheek, but she’d kissed him.

Hermione pulled away and Harry gingerly touched his cheek, his face ablaze and his skin fizzing from the lingering sensation of her lips. “I’ll handle teaching you to dance and give you a few books on proper etiquette; but if you want _advice…_ ask Neville.” She said firmly, though Harry was barely capable of listening. “He’s been taught since he was a baby how to be a proper gentleman." 

She stood up, but Harry still couldn’t formulate a reply. “Now, I’ve got to go… um, decide on a few things, so I’ll leave you alone for a bit, Harry. See you after lunch!”

Harry didn’t move until Madam Pince came to shoo him out of the library half an hour later, the only witness to what had happened the glaring Bulgarian seeker who had been in there when he arrived.

\--oOoOo--

Harry found Neville in their dormitory reading a few days later after blowing off Ron’s request for a chess match. He rarely talked to his dormmate, but not because there was anything _wrong_ with Neville. Other than being a bit pants at magic at least. He just didn’t care so much about plants after spending so many years slaving away taking care of Petunia’s garden.

The same reason he didn’t care for Herbology much if he was being honest. At least the skills weren’t that different so he could get a reasonable grade without much effort.

“Hey, Neville?”

The pudgy faced boy perked up from his book at Harry’s voice. “Oh, hello Harry.”

Neville seemed surprised to be talked to and Harry felt briefly guilty. Was Neville the black sheep of their dorm? There were Dean and Seamus, him and Ron, and then Neville. It wasn't like he seemed to be especially friendly with any upper or lower years either.

"I was wondering Neville, your Gran raised you traditionally, right?" Neville nodded, though his expression remained confused. "I, uh, asked Hermione to the ball and… I was wondering if you had any advice."

Neville grinned. “Thought you might, what with how clingy she’s been. You’ve already asked her?”

Harry nodded quickly. He still couldn’t get her reaction out of his head. The laughter and the _kiss._ “Yeah, I have.”

“Did you ask her formally, informally? As a date or as a friend?”

“Er, there’s a difference? I… sort of asked her to apologise for being insensitive. When we were having our… fight.”

Neville sighed. “Yes, there’s a difference. I don’t know if Hermione would’ve liked a formal invitation, but it does change things. Did you at least make it clear you wanted it to be a _date_?”

Harry gulped. He hadn’t even thought of that. Why was this so complicated. “No…”

Neville let out another sigh. “Alright, so, if you want her to know you like her it’ll change the gift you give her. Maybe some flowers too…” He looked up and shook his head as Harry started to panic. “Oh, no, the gift isn’t a _big_ deal, it’s a token. Usually made personally. Something you admire about the person, or to show how much you value them. If it’s to be worn _at_ the ball it’s a romantic gesture. If it’s separate and to be kept but not worn it’s a friendly one.” He frowned. “If you only give them something that degrades or decays it’s a bit of an insult.”

“I… so not just flowers?”

"No, no. And Hermione's not much of a flower person, is she? Well, maybe if you got her a book about them too..." Neville went to his trunk and pulled out a little pouch. "I made this for, um, Ginny… it's not romantic or anything but I did ask her so I wanted to do it properly." The pouch wasn't fancy, just a little red bag with golden drawstrings and a broom emblazoned on it. "I knew there'd be a ball from Gran, so I prepared in advance. Just had to customise it after she said yes. It was good practice anyway, not like I'll ever get anywhere with magic…"

Harry stared at the bag, wondering what he might give to Hermione. Something that meant something to her. To both of them. What symbolised the two of them? Her helping him with a dragon? A book? No. He’d messed up the first one by being a prat, and the second was too easy. Hermione wasn’t just books. She was so much more than that.

She was passionate and kind, protective and determined, bossy and pushy, and so very stubborn and prideful. She wouldn’t stop when she felt she needed to do something.

“Buckbeak?” Harry muttered, “Neville, what would a Hippogriff mean? If it was worn?”

“Oh. A lot of things. They’re loyal. independent, and proud. Most important is that they’re a symbol of love, the breaching of dividing lines between a Griffin and a Horse.” Neville rubbed the side of his head slowly. “It’s not a bad thing to describe Hermione. She’s certainly headstrong. But it would be a very serious message. You’d need to be sure about it.”

Was he sure? He liked Hermione. He definitely _liked_ her. How serious was he? Losing her for those two weeks had been awful and he didn't want it to happen again. That didn't mean he was certain though, did it? 

Harry flushed as the feeling of her embrace and kiss washed over him again, a shiver shooting down his spine and his stomach twisting into knots.

“Um, th–thanks. For the advice.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

Harry slowly wandered out of the dorm. Hopefully, Ron still wanted a game of chess. He could do with a distraction. 

\--oOoOo--

“And this is where you’ll be learning to dance!” Hermione exclaimed as she dragged him into the Room of Requirement. “Rather than having me teach you the room has some dance partners. Honestly, I can be a _little_ impatient sometimes so they’ll probably teach you better than I could.”

Before him was a wide-open room with a solid wooden floor. A single, wide, mirror dominated one wall of the room but other than a few seats along the edges the other features were the clear lighting and a pair of mannequins in the centre. One wearing a muggle tuxedo, the other wearing a blue ball gown. As he got closer he could tell they matched his and Hermione's height respectively; the Room of Requirement was brilliant.

“A _little_ impatient, sure.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” Hermione swatted his arm lightly. “Anyway, the mannequins will teach you the opening dance and a couple of generic ones. And this way you can surprise me at the ball, Mr Seeker Reflexes. I have high hopes.”

Harry swallowed nervously. “I’ll try my best.”

"Do. Or do not. There is no try." She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Um, what?” He asked confusedly. “I can’t promise I’ll be great, Hermione… but I will _try._ ”

Her smile fell away. “Stupid Dursleys. It was a reference. I’ll have to show you sometime.” She shook her head and sighed before giving him a push towards the centre of the room. ”Go on, give it a go.”

Harry grabbed the mannequin in the ball gown and music started playing gently. It wasn't fast, nor was his dance 'partner' as it led him along. He felt like he was almost doing well, then Hermione called out that he _was_ doing well and he put his foot down in the wrong place and the mannequin stepped on it; for all that it was _graceful_ it was _heavy._

He yelped in pain and pulled away, falling onto the floor as the music came to a screeching stop. Hermione's abrupt snort of laughter, the only sound in the room.

Hermione stood above him and offered her hand, helping pull him to his feet. “Don’t get _too_ overconfident, Harry.” She smirked. “But at least you’ll avoid doing that to me now you know how it feels.” She didn’t let go of his hand and gently swung it back and forth as she smiled.

“Yeah, that wasn’t nice…”

She leaned closer and pecked his cheek. Another kiss. “Keep at it, Harry! And don’t forget your Occlumency practice either!” She let go of his hand and left the room while he was still reacting to her affection. It took far less time for him to come to his senses again this time, but when he did he groaned.

“Dating Hermione… so much extra _work…_ ” But as he touched his cheek again he couldn’t help but smile. Even if it would be hard that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be worth it.

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Ron was still complaining that he hadn't found a date right up until the weekend before Christmas. He had abortively asked Fleur Delacour out, much to the amusement of Gryffindor as a whole — Ron, as it turned out, didn't like being the subject of the school's gossip when it wasn't saying nice things about him. Harry hadn't felt very sympathetic since Rita's article about the upcoming Yule Ball and Harry's 'heartbreak' over the betrayal of one Hermione Granger had swiftly returned the school's attention to him.

That it had come  _ after _ he had made up with Hermione, if only by a few days, had left a few people looking at the article sceptically. Not that it stopped girls from trying to catch him on the ‘rebound’.

“When will they stop asking me?” Harry groaned. “I’ve had a date for  _ ages _ now!”

“And you still won’t tell me who it is,” Ron snapped.

“C’mon Ron, you’ll find out with everyone else.” Harry dreaded Ron finding out he was taking Hermione. Ron’s irritation at Harry’s date had continued at a simmer even after Harry forced them to be civil to each other. Hermione still refused to interact with him without an apology and Ron didn’t see any reason to apologise.

“And you’ve been off so much we barely do anything anymore.” He continued, ignoring what Harry said entirely.

Harry frowned but didn't say anything. He still spent every other evening with Ron. Sure he messed around with magic alongside Hermione every day, learning new spells and uses for old ones. And he practised his dancing for a couple of hours each night. Then there was his little project with Hagrid that took up a bunch of time. Then there were the etiquette discussions with Neville; he was so much more helpful than a book. But that didn’t mean he was  _ avoiding _ Ron. 

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

"Yeah, I guess so. But I can't even enjoy chess. Can't get the ruddy ball out of my head; at this rate, I'll be the only one to turn up without a date. Should've just gone home…"

Ron’s grumbling descended into background noise as Harry leaned back into his seat. The common room was still bustling. So many people had decided to stay for the Yule Ball, it barely felt like the holidays at all. Other than the lack of classes, anyway. And he was making up for those in other ways.

Just as he was thinking of her Hermione came in through the portrait door and smiled at him. Harry smiled back and Ron jerked his head up, narrowing his gaze at her.

“Oh, I guess there  _ is _ someone else who would be without a date.” He mumbled, but Harry didn’t pay Ron any mind as Hermione approached.

“Have a good time in the library?” He asked, offering her a spot next to him on the settee.

"Why yes, yes I did. I do believe I've found the spells you'll need for the next task too." Hermione ignored Harry's short protest about already having enough work and continued. "Assuming you get your butt in gear with your Occlumency practice we can have you ready well in advance of February."

“Oh, come off it, Hermione. It’s months away. He’ll be fine.” Ron waved his hand dismissively. “And anyway, you can come with the ball with me. No way you’ve got a date and we can finally make up.” He grinned broadly, his belief that he’d had a brilliant idea clear on his face.

"Really, Ron? You think I don't have a date? I've been asked by several people." She scowled, her eyes radiating barely restrained fury. "Even one not an hour ago who I had to turn down because I've had a date for more than a week."

Ron laughed. “Come off it, you don’t have to lie. I’ll take you.”

Hermione slammed her hands down on the side of the settee and stood up, glowering at him. “I thought you might change, Ron, but I was wrong,” she snarled, “so I want this to be clear. I. Have. A. Date. I’m not telling you who, because frankly you don’t deserve to know, but you’ll find out come Christmas evening.”

She started to storm off, only to pause for a moment to look over her shoulder at Harry. Seemingly satisfied with how appalled Harry looked at Ron's behaviour she continued marching away but not before shooting Harry a small smile.

Harry let out a sigh and stood up. “I think you’re on your own now, mate. I’m going to go… talk to  _ my _ date now.”

Ron let out several protests but didn't move to follow, giving Harry a chance to hurry after Hermione.

\--oOoOo--

Harry had expected to wait for Hermione in the common room with the rest of the Gryffindors but she’d told him to go ahead and meet with Professor McGonagall while she put on some finishing touches.

It had been a fun Christmas day so far, their minds taken away from the ball by opening presents and devouring the piles of chocolates they had been given. He hadn’t had anything special to give Hermione that morning, just the normal gifts they gave each other. He hoped she’d be surprised — and more importantly like — what he had made for the ball.

Of all people, Viktor Krum was glaring at him while he waited. Cedric had walked in with Cho Chang not long ago, leaving him the only champion there alone. Fleur Delacour was with Roger Davies, an upper-year Ravenclaw, who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of her. Krum had come with a Beauxbatons girl, who seemed more interested in glaring at Delacour than paying attention to her own date.

When Hermione finally arrived Harry barely recognised her. Her hair wasn't the untamed bushy mess it normally was; instead, she'd twisted it into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Her dress robes, a floating mass of periwinkle-blue, showed off her figure better than even her drenched robes had. She looked radiant as her face lit up upon spotting him, a grand smile on her face.

For all that Cho and Fleur were beautiful girls, Hermione had managed to make herself look as good as they did. He had already known she was pretty, both in her looks and in how kind she was, but he had never thought of her getting dressed up and pampering herself like other girls did. It hadn't seemed very  _ Hermione _ -like, so he had simply never thought about it. Even with the obvious implications of the ball.

“Harry!” Hermione said as she approached and all Harry could do was swallow down his anxiety as she hooked her arm into his. “You look good.”

“Ah, so– so do you, Hermione. You’ve… your hair is very different.”

She snorted and leaned against him gently. “Hmm, yes. I thought about doing something different, but… this worked quite well, I think.”

Harry smiled and nodded as he patted his pocket with his free hand. He still had to give her his gift. "Neville told me it was traditional to give a girl a gift at the start of the ball." He felt shocked he could say it without stammering as her gaze pierced right through him, her ever-burning curiosity focused upon him. "So, I spent the last two weeks with Hagrid making this…"

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the carving of a Hippogriff he had made. Hagrid had provided the wood and the instruction, but other than being gifted a braided string to hang it from the work was all his. He had spent hours adding details to the wings, learned a charm to polish and varnish the wood until it shined, but it still felt plain to him. At least magic had helped prevent him ruining all his work as he practised or he would never have finished in time.

“It’s meant to symbolise what I think of you. I tried to make it look like Buckbeak, but I’m not that good.” Harry bit down on his tongue to stop himself babbling and determinedly ignored the curious look both Fleur and Cho were giving him. “You’re proud, independent, and loyal, like Hippogriffs are. I know it’s not especially pretty but if you’d like to wear it…”

Hermione lifted the charm from his hand and ran her fingers along one of the wings. "Harry… I love it." She held it up in front of her for a moment before wrapping the string around her wrist, wearing it as a bracelet. "You made it yourself and it means something; don't think it's worthless just because it doesn't sparkle."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. It still didn’t feel good enough but she hadn’t hated it.

They engaged in idle chatter with the other champions until Professor McGonagall opened the doors to the Great Hall and the rest of the students, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang alike streamed past them. A great number of glares were sent at the champion’s various dates, but Harry only really paid attention to the looks of shock sent towards Hermione. It was as if they didn’t believe it possible that Hermione could look good.

Harry was enjoying the various reactions, from the slightly smug smile of Lavender’s — likely having helped Hermione get ready — to Malfoy’s stunned frown, right up until Ron walked past.

Ron leaned in opposite Hermione to speak into Harry’s ear over the din of the passing students. “Wow, you got a good one, mate. Where did you find her?”

Hardly able to believe Ron hadn’t recognised Hermione, she didn’t look  _ that _ different, he glanced at her. Her frown, mirroring his own, showed she had most certainly heard Ron.

“Right under my nose all along,” Harry replied calmly, causing Hermione to laugh.

Ron stared at her puzzled for a moment before hurrying off with the crowd.

“’e is not ze most observant, is ‘e?” Fleur said as the passing students slowed to a trickle. “I ‘ave seen you arguing wiz ‘im. Yet…” She shook her head and let out a laugh like tinkling glass.

“No, but that’s Ronald for you.” Hermione sighed.

Harry was ready to say something in Ron’s defence when Professor McGonagall began ushering them into the Great Hall. The stares directed at them as she called out their names were just like he’d expected and he felt like a piece of meat. Hermione squeezed his arm; at least she wasn’t trying to show him off like someone else might have done.

It was going to be a long night. Hopefully, it wouldn't all be so bad.

\--oOoOo--

The meal passed by awkwardly. Hermione had engaged with Fleur in a conversation about Beauxbatons, occasionally slipping in a little French to Fleur and Madame Maxine’s seeming delight. It wasn’t that she had ignored him, but Harry hadn’t felt comfortable talking surrounded by so many people he didn’t know and she hadn’t pressured him to speak.

He had barely said anything until Fleur had brought up the ‘adventures’ he and Hermione’d had during their years. He didn’t go into much detail, but it wasn’t as if his experience with the Dementors was much of a secret at Hogwarts. Neither seemed entirely ready to believe he could cast the Patronus Charm until Cedric had confirmed his and Hermione’s story.

When they finally finished eating, and Hermione whispered her thanks to the house-elves quietly, it was time to dance. Harry wasn't sure whether he was dreading dancing with Hermione or not. He wanted to dance with her, but not in front of everyone.

She pulled him towards the dance floor with a smile. "Time to show me how much you practised." She said as his hand settled on her waist.

He led and Hermione followed. The dancing wasn't hard, he had always been quick on his feet; it was ignoring the crowds watching them was the challenge. A challenge that seemed to melt away as his gaze matched Hermione's and her eyes seemed to sparkle with joy. The more he focused on her the less he could tell he was outside of the Room of Requirement, the crowds ever more distant and less important than the girl he was dancing with.

A flowery scent he hadn’t noticed was there before yet was so very familiar, the rapturous smile she flashed him at every opportunity, the warmth he felt every time he held her close.

When the first song ended they stopped dancing but didn't move. Other couples moved around them, taking up their places on the dance floor, and the next song started. Harry led them into another dance, no less enthralling than the first, and another after that without thinking.

They only stopped after Krum asked Hermione if he would accept a dance with him and Hermione declined, ostensibly to take the chance to rest her feet. "… never did stop saying Herm-o-Ninny…" he heard her mutter as they walked away, but when he shot her a look she simply shook her head and smiled.

“You were brilliant, Harry. You must’ve practised a lot, and with the charm… You’ve been working hard, haven’t you?” She beamed at him and squeezed his hand. “I hope the rest of the night is like this. It’s been wonderful.”

“I don’t think it’s been bad either,” He answered, “once I got over all the people watching us, it was… nice.”

“So you’ll be up for more dancing later?”

Harry hesitated as he looked out at the dance floor. No one seemed to care who he was at the moment, more interested in their own dates.

“Yeah, I would.”

“And maybe you’ll try dancing with someone else. Maybe we can swap with Cedric and Cho? Hogwarts solidarity?”

Harry found Hermione looking at him oddly, a worried smile on her face. He didn’t like the idea all that much, the thought of seeing her dance with someone else unsettling his stomach slightly. But it had merit, and neither Cedric nor Cho were bad in any way. “I guess? I came here with you… if you think it’s a good idea.”

Hermione considered his words before her smile returned in full force. When the next song ended she pulled him over to Cedric and Cho and calmly asked if they would swap dates for a dance, to which they both agreed.

"Granger truly outdid herself, I don't think anyone expected her to come to the ball looking like that," Cho said as they began to dance. "Your other friend certainly didn't!"

“She’s always been pretty,” Harry replied immediately, “she just doesn’t think it’s the most important thing in the world.”

Cho hummed prettily. “I suppose you’d know better than the rest of us. Are half the rumours about what you’ve gotten up to with her true?”

Harry shrugged, neither of his friends gossipped much and he tried not to pay attention to when other people gossipped about him, not that it always worked. “Some of them, sure. The Troll one is real.” He mentioned the only rumour he didn’t mind confirming; the real story had spread around enough, with Hermione’s little lie to protect Ron, that it was fairly accurate.

Their dance soon came to an end and Harry felt relieved when Hermione pulled him along to start another dance of their own.

“Enjoy your time with Cho?” She asked as they swept past Fleur and her latest, not quite drooling, admirer.

“It wasn’t bad, but I like dancing with you more.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink and she remained silent with a grand smile on her face for the rest of the dance, and the next, continuing until both of them felt the need to take another break.

They wandered over to one of the refreshment tables to collect Butterbeers before finding somewhere to sit, hands still clasped together as they watched the ball go on. After a few minutes of relaxation, Harry spotted the red hair of Ron approaching.

“Why’d you bring  _ her? _ ” Ron snapped when he got close, “You heard her before, she said she wasn’t our friend anymore! You said you already had a date!”

“She  _ was _ my—” Harry started, only to be interrupted.

“I said I wasn’t  _ your _ friend, Ronald, not that I wasn’t Harry’s.” Hermione glowered at Ron and her grip on Harry’s hand tightened painfully. “And I was Harry’s date from the start.” Hermione blushed lightly, but it wasn’t clear if it was out of anger or something else.

Ron only seemed to get angrier, his face red and his fists clenched, he turned to Harry. “You wanted me to look stupid asking her, is that why you didn’t tell me?!”

“No, Ron. He didn’t tell you because I asked him not to.” Hermione answered before Harry could. “But you’re blaming your  _ best mate _ for something that wasn’t his fault. Again.” She let go of his hand, stood up, and strode forward. “If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

Ron towered over her, reminding Harry just how much Ron had been growing of late. “I get it now, you made friends with Harry to get attention! ’Look at me, I’m so clever, I managed to win over a tri-wizard champion!’ You even tried to get Cedric too! What’re you gonna do next, date Viktor as well to complete the set?”

Ron’s mockery of Hermione had Harry on his feet and ready to act but Hermione had already raised her hand as if to slap Ron, only to drop it at the last moment, turning away and walking off with tears spilling down her cheeks.

Harry was in Ron's personal space in moments, his attempts to glare the satisfied look off of the red head's face failing completely.

“You should’ve told me, mate. Best mates tell each other things.” Ron nodded, not even looking at Harry. “Would’ve warned you off of her right away, I would.”

"She's not like that at all, and you know it." Harry thought about hexing Ron, but, at a glance, he could see dozens of people staring at them. If he did a teacher would catch him and he'd never catch up to Hermione.

Harry shook his head at Ron and whirled around, setting off after Hermione, leaving Ron to stare after him flabbergasted. 

\--oOoOo--

Harry found Hermione in the rose garden leaning on a bench and, strangely, holding a small glass jar with a beetle inside. She didn’t notice his approach until he was right next to her and jumped as he said her name.

“Harry!” Her eyes were bloodshot and her face marred by tear tracks. “I thought you would stay with Ron…”

“Not after what he said, and not with you…” He hesitated, not wanting to call her out on crying. “Upset.”

Hermione giggled softly and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you. Shall we go for a walk? It’s a little cold, but still a lovely night.”

“Sure,” When she let go Harry glanced at the jar she was still holding. “What’s with the beetle?”

"Oh, this? It's just a water beetle; I thought my dad might like it for his collection." She tucked the jar away into the ruffles of her dress somehow and grabbed his hand. "C'mon, Harry. Let's forget about… that and go back to tonight being wonderful. We shouldn't let him ruin it for us."

Harry nodded and willingly let himself be pulled along as she started walking. She began explaining the magic that had gone into growing a rose garden for the ball in the middle of winter in great detail. Even if the topic didn’t interest him much he couldn’t help but enjoy her enthusiasm for all things magical.

\--oOoOo--

Harry was walking arm in arm with Hermione back to the Gryffindor Dormitories after the end of the Yule Ball, exhausted from the long night and their return to the dance floor, when Cedric approached the two of them.

“Harry! Hermione! Before you head off…” He looked around before stepping towards an empty classroom. “I want to repay the favour, from last month.”

Harry blinked blearily and followed Cedric with a shrug, Hermione staying at his side. “Alright…” He said, not wholly sure what Cedric wanted.

Once they were inside Cedric closed the door. “Right, so… Hermione told me about the dragons, and I’d have been in trouble if I hadn’t known in advance. That Horntail was nasty.” Cedric shuddered and Harry felt Hermione squeeze his hand painfully as she did as well. “So, about your egg—”

“Just put it underwater.”

“—take a bath—oh. You already figured it out, huh.” Cedric petered off as Harry interrupted him. “Well, I… I wanted to return the favour, but I guess you don’t need the help.” He laughed lightly. “We really underestimated you, me, Krum, and Fleur. You’re certainly nothing like the person I thought you were.”

“It’s fine, Cedric. I was going to tell you for it to be fair, then Hermione did it for me… You don’t owe me anything.”

“He likes Treacle Tarts, or really any–” Hermione yawned as she leaned against Harry sleepily. “–Honeydukes would make a good gift.”

Cedric shook his head slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind, and I do owe you. Whether you believe it or not. Goodnight Harry, Hermione.” He left the room after they gave their own mumbled goodbyes, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

“We should head up,” Harry said as Hermione kept leaning on him and made no attempt to move.

“Mmm… no, one thing first. While we’re in private.” Hermione stepped in front of Harry and leaned forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek, lingering for several seconds before pulling away with a wide smile. “Tonight has been wonderful, even with the interruption. I’ll remember it forever.”

Harry felt wide awake as his cheeks flushed brightly. “I… I enjoyed it too.”

Hermione stood smiling at him for what felt like both an eternity and far too short a time before she grabbed his arm. “We need to sleep sometime, Harry,” She insistently led him back to their dorm, no matter how reluctant he was for the night to end. 


End file.
